


Enemy Unseen

by Paladin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Character Study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 102,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paladin/pseuds/Paladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tragedy occurs in the alternate Universe, a cranky TARDIS evicts the Doctor on Torchwood's doorstep, where all appears quiet for the moment, but is it?  Spoilers through post "Journey's End".  Follows after "A Small Piece of Coral" but can stand alone.</p>
<p> Thanks to Beta's Persiflage and Arena</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He lifted his gaze from the gray ashes of the dying fire to see the sun rising against the equally gray sky in the east. A red glow on the horizon was growing as the sunrise progressed, portents of interesting weather ahead. He looked up at the clouds, dark and baggy, laden with moisture before turning his attention back to the fire. A few embers remained, providing scant heat against the wind and cold. But then even at its height, the fire had failed to truly warm the Doctor. 

Rose was gone, along with his brother; even the piece of coral, the TARDIS’ small child, didn't survive. He smiled briefly as he thought of the last one. An infant TARDIS: he truly wished it could have been. He shook his head sadly. It had been his fault. He hadn’t thought things through, taken them to their logical conclusion. He’d forgotten just how deadly the energy in Pete’s world was. Failed to understand the depth of Rose’s desperate yearning to be with him and only him, the original. 

He now stood in front of the remnants of a funeral pyre that had held no body. A futile attempt to bring closure to the tragedy. He hoped Pete and Jackie would be able to treat the real body with the respect it deserved. The thought that his brother’s remains might be on display in the basement of Torchwood sickened him.

A hiss from the last vestiges of the dying fire broke him from his reverie. The rain was starting to fall, thick, fat drops that felt like ice on his scalp. He stared at one tiny red ember that spat out a final puff of smoke as it darkened and died under the rain’s assault. He heard the wheezing groan of the TARDIS, time to go. 

Kicking at the ashes, he found a frozen puddle of metal, the ruins of the sonic. He sighed. Nothing left behind that someone could hurt themselves with. That was good. He needed to be more careful of that in the future. 

He took one last look at the sea, its waves violent as the wind fought with the tide over control of the water’s direction. He turned towards the insistent TARDIS and saw the much calmer and soothing waves the wind created on the dry ocean of tall grass that covered the isle. Mesmerizing… He found he had become lost in that motion when the TARDIS again insisted on his leaving. The groan of her engines was almost threatening. Reluctantly, he turned back to his ship. He had a feeling she wasn’t done with him yet.

He walked inside and flung his wet coat over the closest of the coral support struts. He barely had time to recover his spare sonic when the TARDIS was off. The trip was short. It ended suddenly with the TARDIS skidding violently to a halt. He was almost thrown against the doors, but to his dismay, they opened at the last second, leaving him with nothing to stop his motion but the pavement outside. 

“Oi, easy, girl!” he cried, as he nearly collided with a large metal structure, his backside landing hard on the wet pavement next to it. In answer to his protest, his coat came loose from the strut and landed in a sodden mass on top of him. He knew he shouldn’t have tuned that gravitic anomalyser, at least not when she was in her current mood. 

He quickly assessed his surroundings. Roald Dahl Plass, at the base of the water tower. The TARDIS apparently didn’t feel she was done refueling. 

Untangling himself from his coat, he stood up and left it on the ground. It was evening, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around to see his rather embarrassing entrance. Just some traffic in the distance, too far to have noticed his arrival. 

Cautiously he approached the TARDIS, only to have the doors slam in his face and the lock engage with a final click that brooked no argument. He pulled out his key and tried it anyway. It rattled uselessly as the locking mechanism refused to budge. He toyed with trying his sonic, but dismissed the idea. That violation would hardly improve her mood. 

He put his hand on the ship and stroked her gently, his long fingers barely touching. “Come, girl, I know how you feel,” he softly pleaded in the most personal form of Gallifreyan, reserved for only the closest of family members or beloved of friends. “I lost someone I loved too. I’m sorry, I really am. I know I made a right mess of it. Can’t you forgive me?” 

His answer came in the form of a shock that caused him to hiss in pain as he jerked his hand away from the door.

“Lover’s quarrel?” a familiar voice asked.

The Doctor turned around, holding his injured hand, and saw Captain Jack Harkness with the abandoned coat over his arm, a cheeky smile on his face.

“No, she’s just a bit temperamental while refueling, quite normal actually,” the Doctor replied cheerily, hoping his friend would hear a confidence in his voice he didn’t feel. 

“Really?” The tone and grin told the Doctor that Jack wasn’t buying it for a second, but would let it go for now. “How about you? You look like you could use some refueling. After some drying off, that is.” 

Scratching his head, the Doctor looked down at himself. He was soaked through. He must have stood staring at the grass longer than he thought. “I was caught out in a Scottish rainstorm. It was quite refreshing.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” replied Jack, reaching out and guiding him by the elbow. “Come on, I’d like you to meet my crew. I gather you won’t be staying in the TARDIS for a while.”

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the cranky machine and sighed. “No, I don’t think so. She really was depleted and the rift isn’t as strong as it was last time. It might take a week or so before she is feeling her old self again.”

“That’s fine, Ianto will get you fixed right up. We have a few places in the area we can house guests in,” Jack assured him as they walked towards the Torchwood entrance. He looked down at the wet coat on his arm. “I’ll have him get this dried out for you too.”

Somehow, staying as a guest of Torchwood made the Doctor a bit nervous. “Uh… any chance I could stay with you instead?”

“No, I’m sorry. I stay in Torchwood headquarters. It could be awkward.”

“Yes, I can understand that.” He sighed and shook his head. Stay in Torchwood or as a guest of Torchwood. Not much of a choice, really.

“But don’t worry, we can find you a nice room right near the Plass here. I’ll list you as a guest consultant. Charge it to our expense account. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” replied the Doctor, wishing he could think of a polite way to turn down the offer.

“Where’s Rose and that redhead by the way?” asked Jack. “I would have thought you would have had at least one of them with you.”

“Both of them are fine, back with their families,” the Doctor lied. 

“Rose went back to her family after all she went through just to be with you? I find that a little hard to believe. Mickey said the whole time she was there, all she could think of was coming back and finding you. Practically took over Torchwood to do it.”

“Oh… Well, the other me is a bit more romantic, I guess, swept her off her feet. She really didn’t stand a chance. Being part human added something. She’s much happier with him, than she ever would have been with me. It’s as if he was made for her.” He stopped, realizing he was rambling, telling the truth he had hoped would be, but which was in fact a lie.

One glance at Jack and he saw his friend didn’t buy it. Fortunately, he didn’t press for the truth either. Suddenly the Doctor saw something out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head but it was gone. He stopped and scanned the area as he tried to figure out what he had seen. He knew it didn’t belong here. Even with the rift nearby, it didn’t belong. But what it was eluded him. All he’d seen was just a vague shape, a shadow. 

That must have been it, just a shadow. The light was strange here. He was tired. What he had seen must have just been a trick of the light. The troubles with the TARDIS, the funeral, Jack asking about Rose and Donna, no wonder he was seeing things. He didn’t sleep very much, didn’t like to, but tonight he might give it a try again despite the nightmares it brought.

“Are you alright?” asked Jack worriedly.

The Doctor shook himself out of his thoughts and answered. “I’m fine, I’m fine, thought I saw something. But it was nothing. Just the shadows playing up a bit, most likely.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” replied the Doctor, wishing Jack would stop asking so many questions.

“Alright then, let’s get in and get you something to eat while Ianto finds you a room. You must be tired if ‘you’ are starting to see things.” 

They were standing in front of a rather nondescript battered door off a walkway along the bay. “This is the entrance to Torchwood?” asked the Doctor incredulously.

“Yes, it is,” replied Jack as he opened the door. “It’s a bit more impressive inside, you’ll see.”

As the Doctor entered the doorway, he saw something out of the corner of his eye again. He tried to catch it but it was gone before he could turn his head. He gave himself a shake. He was just tired. Jack’s offer of a room was becoming more and more welcome. 

Behind the door was a small reception area. At the back of it was a thick, round, metal door, much like one would expect to see on a bank vault. Jack grinned as the door rolled back with a clattering sound. It was evident he felt that what was behind it would impress the Doctor. 

As the Doctor followed Jack through the open portal, the smell of the Torchwood Cardiff assaulted his senses. A strange, primitive mix of terran and alien odors, overlaid with the unmistakable scent of humans in rut. No, he definitely wouldn’t be comfortable spending the night here. 

Looking around the area that served as Torchwood headquarters, the Doctor saw it was a cavernous, multilevel room. The water tower fountain from Roald Dahl Plass continued through the center of the room. Reflected light off the fountain base created a rippling pattern on the walls. At the bottom of the tower was a pool of water, water flowing down over the surface of the tower into the pool, resulted in a constant trickling sound. Square blocks of concrete sat barely out of the water, serving as giant stepping stones. A very unlikely setting for a secret government agency.

The upper tiers were a combination of ultra modern (for early twenty first century) office equipment and furniture set in a late nineteenth century heavy industrial setting. Shiny glass and chrome, set against worn brick, water stained concrete and dirty factory iron. The stairway railing under the Doctor's hand was rough, cold where the chipped paint exposed bare metal.

Startled, he looked up as he heard a familiar, yet unbelievable cry. At the room’s highest reaches, well over three stories, a pterodactyl, pteranodon more correctly, circled lazily. 

“Oh, that’s Myfanwy,” Jack explained casually. “She was helping herself to the sheep in the local countryside after she came through the rift. We decided to adopt her. She makes an excellent guard dog.”

“I’m sure she does,” the Doctor agreed. “Not much would escape her from that height.” As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, the pteranodon stooped into a dive. A rush of air tore through the Doctor’s hair, when she flared her wings right above his head, causing him to duck in surprise as her claws just barely brushed his scalp. Then with a predatory cry, she soared back to the ceiling.

“She must like you,” Jack observed. “She’s never greeted a guest before.”

“I’m not sure I care for the honor,” said the Doctor as he looked warily towards the ceiling. “It definitely gets the hearts beating. You said something about finding me a room? I’d prefer one without wildlife, if it’s available.” 

“Sure, coming right up.” Jack turned and yelled, “Ianto!” A smartly dressed, handsome young man with blue eyes and brown hair looked up from his desk. “Can you see what we have in accommodations by the quay here? And see if you can get some food delivered.” He lowered his voice as he asked the Doctor, “Fish and chips alright with you?” 

“Yes, that would be fine.” 

“Ianto, turn on the charm and see if you can get that fish and chips place to deliver again.”

“Yes, sir,” came the curt reply, “and under what name will I be getting the room?”

Jack looked at the Doctor and raised an eyebrow.

“John Smith,” was the Doctor's answer.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, John Smith,” the Doctor insisted.

“Alright, the man wants to be John Smith, Ianto.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ianto replied. “Will he be needing identification, sir.” 

The Doctor gave his head a shake.

“No,” Jack replied. “He has that covered.”

“That’s quite an efficient young man you have there,” remarked the Doctor.

“Ianto? He’s come in handy quite a few times,” Jack replied with a sly grin. “You should try his coffee.”

The Doctor made a face. 

“Well, his tea then. It should be as good. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” Jack gestured for the Doctor to follow him.

“Hey, I’m not that easy. I’ve told you before, I want dinner and drinks first,” the Doctor joked as he followed Jack down the stairs that led to his room.

The Doctor stepped out of the shower. It had felt good to finally feel warm again after spending all that time outdoors in the north of Scotland. Towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the door to Jack’s room and saw his blue suit, burgundy shirt, a tie and red trainers laid out for him. He briefly wondered how Jack had managed to get hold of them, then remembered that Jack did have his own key. He was disheartened that the TARDIS was apparently only exiling her owner. 

He fingered the material of the blue suit, his brother’s favorite. He’d had this duplicate made shortly after he left Donna. He had yet to wear it. It somehow seemed disrespectful to wear it now, but he had no other options. His brown suit was gone, getting cleaned most likely, and he didn’t want to have to explain to Jack why the blue one wouldn’t do. With a sigh, he started dressing. 

Fully clothed with his tie fairly straight, he entered the hub. Jack and Ianto were quietly arguing at the Welshman’s workstation. Jack looked up from the discussion as the Doctor approached. “Oh, you’re done, good. The fish and chips just arrived.” 

Jack escorted him to a vacant desk. On it was a plain, grease soaked brown bag, a bottle of malt vinegar and some napkins. “Ianto will get you some tea. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine. Thank you for getting my clothes, by the way,” replied the Doctor as he settled into the chair. “How’s the TARDIS?”

Jack grimaced, sucking in air between his teeth. “Not sure, to tell the truth. When I got close to her, I saw your clothes in a heap outside the door. It looked so odd I couldn’t help myself and joked, ‘What, no suitcase?’ and I swear she growled at me. So I just gathered up what was out there and left as quickly as I could. If I were you, I would stay away for a bit.” 

“That was more or less my plan,” responded the Doctor. That the TARDIS was being cranky worried him, but perversely he was glad she wasn’t reserving her ire just for him. Maybe she was just moody. No, that wasn’t right. She was mourning and she wanted to be alone. He understood that. Hopefully she would want him back soon. He realized Jack was looking at him, waiting for him to say something more. The smell of the fish and chips caused his stomach to growl, conveniently providing him with a change of topic. 

“These chips look good. Excellent in fact,” he stated as he took a chip from the bag and then bit into it. “Thank you. So what have you got going on here?” 

“Nothing much, really,” said Jack pulling up a chair. “Rift has been pretty quiet. Which is good, as we’re a little short on staff at the moment? There’s only three of us.”

“Three?” asked the Doctor as he looked around for the third party. 

“Gwen’s home with her husband. They are trying to have a honeymoon.”

“Martha and Mickey? Neither of them signed up?”

“No, Martha’s husband wanted to stay in London and Mickey just hung around long enough to find a job overseas. He said he wanted a fresh start.” 

_“A Fresh start, that’s what I need,”_ thought the Doctor. He never felt that he would be envious of Mickey, but there it was. His thoughts were broken into by a sharp clatter as a cup of tea was set down with contained force in front of him, the hot liquid slopping right up to the brim but not a drop escaping. He looked up to see a rather grim Welshman staring down at him.

“Your tea, sir. Will you be wanting any milk with that?” The voice was even more formal and stiff than the words.

“No, no, thank you,” responded the Doctor, wondering what the bad mood was about. He decided to pull his usual trick and pretend he didn’t notice. “This is fine and please don’t call me sir.” 

“I’ll be back to my duties then,” Ianto replied as he turned rather pointedly on his heel and left. 

The Doctor took a sip of tea. “You’re right,” he said to Jack. “He does do a good job with the tea. So, down to only three people, any plans to recruit some more?”

“Why, you want to sign up?” Jack asked.

“Well, with this food, it’s tempting. But no, I’ll pass,” replied the Doctor between bites of fried fish. “However, since I appear to be stranded at the moment, I’d be happy to help out for a bit. See just what this new rebuilt Torchwood is all about.”

“I’d be glad to have your assistance. I’ll warn you, though, it really is pretty dull right now, but it would be great if you could help us figure out some of the alien technology we have stored.” 

“I’d be happy to help with that,” the Doctor replied enthusiastically. Jack’s offer of having him poke around in the captured technology was just what he needed to get his mind off of recent events, though a rogue alien or two would be even better. “Anything in particular giving you problems?” 

Jack cast a worried glance at Ianto, who was busy at his terminal, a frown marring his face. “We can talk about that later. Let’s get you settled in for the night. You may be cleaned up, but you still look a mess.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Doctor, I hope you don’t mind,” Jack apologized as they turned into the parking lot of a modest hotel just north of the Plass. “Ianto couldn’t get you in the four star hotel we usually use here on the bay.”

“I’m sure whatever you have will be fine,” replied the Doctor. “I’m used to shipboard life after all.”

“The TARDIS is hardly austere accommodations,” Jack responded as he parked the SUV. “At least he managed to get you the penthouse suite here. I am sorry though, usually he can pull in a favor or two to get what we need. I’d feel better if you were closer to the Hub.”

The Doctor opened his door and exited the vehicle. He looked up at the hotel and then across the road where the Plass was clearly visible as Jack removed the suitcase Ianto had prepared from the boot. “You know, this hotel is so close I can’t figure out why you bothered to drive here. We would have arrived here just as quickly if we had walked,” he observed.

“That’s only because the last person to drive the SUV did a rotten job of parking,” countered Jack as he lead the Doctor into the glass enclosed reception area. 

“And that person was?” 

“Me. You happy now?” asked Jack, as he set the suitcase down in front the reception desk. “Why don’t you have a seat while I make sure they have everything ready? These short notice reservations can sometimes be a problem.”

Instead of following Jack’s suggestion, the Doctor decided to nose around a little. The reception was brightly light and very modern. Off to one side was a low table surrounded on three sides by oversized chairs. Beyond the table was one lone potted palm standing in a corner. 

Across the reception from the palm was a small stand with brochures on various attractions in the local area. He smiled as he looked them over. He was familiar with most of the places they featured. Some of them he had actually help build. 

Behind the stand was a glass wall that separated the reception from the dining area. It was closed, but it looked like there would be a breakfast buffet of some kind in the morning. 

“You’re not still hungry, are you?” asked Jack as he walked up behind the Doctor and clapped him on the shoulder. 

The Doctor gave a little jump and shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine,” he assured Jack. 

“Good. Let’s get you up to your room. You look like hell, you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. I thought I looked a mess, but thanks for letting me know,” the Doctor quipped. 

Outside the penthouse suite, the Doctor was about to use his sonic on the lock when Jack put a restraining hand on his wrist. Surprised, the Doctor turned to Jack who rolled his eyes upward to the security camera in the hallway. Chagrined, the Doctor gestured for Jack to open the door. 

The captain put the keycard in the slot of the door lock and deftly pulled it out. The light on the door flashed red. “Sometimes it takes a few tries,” Jack explained. He put the card back in the slot and pulled it out slowly this time. Again the light flashed red. The Doctor’s hand itched to use his sonic. Jack looked puzzled and slightly embarrassed, but tried once more, this time pulling the card out at a slightly faster speed. The light flashed green. He quickly turned the door handle before his luck changed. 

“See? No problem at all. Let’s get you settled,” said Jack as he carried in the suitcase. The suite was large. The first room had a couch, desk, television and a medium sized table with four chairs. He headed straight for the second room, which was the bedroom. The Doctor, bemused, followed behind.

“I can take it from here,” said the Doctor, wanting to be alone once Jack had put the suitcase on a luggage stand. “Why don’t you get back to Torchwood.”

“I just want to do a sweep first. Make sure there’s no bugs here.”

“I’ll take care of that. No need for you to do it,” asserted the Doctor.

“I know, but if it’s one of ours, I don’t want it destroyed and if it’s someone else’s, I want it intact so I can trace it. I’ve seen what you do with surveillance devices,” Jack countered. “Why don’t you unpack? I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

The Doctor reluctantly yielded to Jack and opened the suitcase. A small pile of square foil packets caught his eye. “What’s this about?” the Doctor asked, indicating the offensive supplies.

Jack turned away from taking a small video device out of a picture, his eyes wide when he saw what was in the suitcase. “Oh, that’s just Ianto being considerate. Here, I’ll take those for you. Unless you would like to try them out?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively, half kidding, half hopeful.

“They’re all yours,” the Doctor responded, his voice heavy with disdain as he stepped back from the suitcase. Jack quickly gathered them up. He stopped briefly to examine one more closely. 

“Hmm I didn’t know he had these. I’ll have to talk to him about that,” said Jack. He looked at the Doctor and changed the subject. “Well, I have this room clear. Let me go check the other one.”

Left alone, the Doctor quickly finished unpacking. He hoped it would be a waste of effort and he could be off the next day. Doing a quick sweep of the room with the sonic he discovered a few devices Jack had missed. They imploded with puffs of smoke as he disabled them. As he pried one out of a lamp base to examine more closely, he looked out the window for the first time and discovered his room overlooked the Plass. 

The TARDIS was easily visible beneath the water tower. To his eyes she appeared haloed by the light illuminating the fountain, to others she would be almost invisible. As he stared at her, he realized unpacking was not a waste. Her resentment towards him was apparent, even at this distance. He was going to be a resident here for quite some time, unless he chose to abandon her. No, that was unthinkable. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Jack clearing his throat behind him. Turning, he saw the captain had quite a collection of miniature surveillance devices in his hand.

“All Torchwood’s?” the Doctor asked. 

“Just a few, Mostly UNIT’s, a few MI5 and some I don’t recognize, but we’ll know where they are from once we get them back to the Hub.”

“Any ideas about this one?” asked the Doctor holding the device from the lamp between his thumb and forefinger, as if he had a rat by the tail. 

“Yeah… Um… That’s one of ours,” replied a rather embarrassed Jack. “Sorry, I just wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe.”

“I’ve been keeping myself safe for quite some time now. I don’t need your help in that area, thank you very much.” 

Jack returned the Doctor’s stare, rubbing his chin, considering his next words carefully. “We can debate that another time I guess. Right now, you are in about as bad a shape as I have seen you, short of being shot by a Dalek. I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially when I could have done something to prevent it.”

“I’m fine. I just need to rest without being the main attraction on someone’s monitor. If you don’t want me destroying your devices, you might want to remove any others you have here before you leave.”

“Right, I’ll get right on that. Anything else?” replied Jack, his irritation at being dressed down showing in his voice.

“No, I’ll see you in Torchwood tomorrow. I gather you monitor the entrance.”

“Yes, we do. We won’t leave you outside for long,” said Jack with a smile, his good mood apparently returning.

Once Jack left the suite, the Doctor’s shoulders sagged. The effort of keeping up a front had left him exhausted. He felt has if a giant weight was trying to press him into the floor. He pushed through his fatigue and performed a final scan of the suite with his sonic. There was one device left. He deftly disabled it, smiling in spite of himself. He would have been disappointed in Jack if he hadn’t at least tried. 

He readied himself for bed, pleasantly surprised to discover Ianto had managed to find pajamas and a dressing gown that fit his long frame. The young man apparently took his job very seriously. The Doctor carefully hung up the blue suit, shirt and tie. Hopefully his brown suit would be back to him soon, it felt odd to trust its care to someone else. 

The room was pleasant and the view was spectacular. He wanted to leave the heavy curtains open so that view would greet him in the morning, but something made him feel uneasy about doing so. He felt too exposed. It made no sense. He was on the top floor. Anything that could get to him here from outside the window wasn’t going to let a bit cloth get in its way. But he reached to close the curtains anyway. 

He stayed his hand when he thought he saw something high and to the right, just at the edge of his vision, but when he turned his head to look at it, it was gone. Most likely a bat or nocturnal bird he thought, as he quickly drew the curtains shut, the hangers screeching as they rubbed along the curtain rod.

He stretched and looked down at the bed unhappily. He knew he needed to sleep, but he really didn’t want to. The rectangular mattress in front of him looked stark and unappealing, despite the posh quilt and oversized pillows. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His stomach queasy, he reached down and flicked back the covers revealing the bed’s pale blue sheets, thinking maybe a less formal appearance would make the bed more appealing. 

It was better, but still not good. Fair at best. He turned his back on the bed as he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and considered his options. Staying up wouldn’t work. He was depleted. Jack’s constant references to his appearance confirmed that. Ideally he should be recovering in the TARDIS as she idled in the vortex. _“No use fixating on what you can’t have,”_ he berated himself. He was being childish, the problem wasn’t the bed, or the room, or even the window. Those were just excuses. He had to face it. As much as his body craved sleep, his mind feared it and putting it off wasn’t going to make it any better.

Turning back to the bed, he reluctantly laid down on it and slipped under the covers. He gave a worried glance at the draped window and told himself he was just being silly. The bedclothes felt cool and smooth where they made contact with his skin, their scent clean and pleasing. The weight of the quilt and blankets relaxed him, making him feel oddly protected. He was safe here, he assured himself. Fatigue had just made him paranoid.

He took a deep breath and sighed contentedly as he let it out. It was almost as if he was in his own bed. Only the hum of the TARDIS engines in the background was missing. He rolled on to his side, subconsciously putting his back to the worrying window and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack stood outside the hotel, staring up at the top floor of the building, his breath visible, ghostlike, in the illumination of the security lights. He was worried about his friend. He’d never seen the Doctor this passive, this willing to have someone take charge of him. Something was definitely wrong. Being caught in a rainstorm wasn’t enough to explain his condition. 

He sighed and shook his head. He needed to get back to the Hub. Considering the SUV briefly, he decided to leave it behind. The Doctor was right, it was just as fast on foot and there were a couple of things he wanted to check out on the way. He could always fetch it in the morning. 

Walking across the Plass, he found himself giving the TARDIS a wide berth. The perception filter was working in overdrive, only his experience with it allowed him to realize what was happening. He had entered the Plass intending to stop by the TARDIS and see if he could find any hint as to what was wrong with the Doctor. Instead, he had forgotten she was there and altered his course to avoid the area entirely. Only concern for his friend enabled him to remember his original plan, before he left the Plass entirely. 

He turned towards the ship and approached slowly. About twenty feet away from the TARDIS, he stopped, loath to go further. He could feel her pushing him back as he stood staring at her, fighting to keep his eyes on her. She was dark, silent and brooding. His hope, that the TARDIS would provide some clue as to what was going on, was destroyed. 

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. What did he think she was going to do? Have a chat with him? She might be the key to what was going on, but this was definitely a fool’s errand none the less. 

Frustrated, he turned away from the ship feeling the pressure from her ease as he left. He continued on to the spot where the Doctor had thought he had seen something. He scanned the area, trying to see if anything was out of place, not as it should be, searching for something so elusive he didn’t even know what it was. Nothing. Everything was exactly as it should be. Still, it would be prudent to watch this location for a while. He trusted the Doctor’s instincts, even if the Doctor didn’t.

When he arrived back at the Hub, he saw Ianto busy at work at his terminal. Jack poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over to join him.

“Well, he’s settled in now,” Jack reported as he sat down on the edge of Ianto’s desk. “I really wish he was closer though. Why is it we couldn’t get him into the four star?”

“They’re having a convention and our usual suite was already occupied by that ambassador,” Ianto replied, still intent on his monitor. 

“The one who hasn’t figured out yet that his girlfriend isn’t from Swansea, but is actually from thousands of light-years further away?”

“Yes, sir, UNIT and MI5 both want to keep tabs on the situation and arranged for him to be booked into the suite.”

“We're monitoring it also, aren’t we? I’m a bit concerned his girlfriend is still with him. Atterians aren’t known for their long term relationships. I wonder what she‘s up to.”

Ianto looked up at Jack, concerned. “Yes, we still have reciprocity. We don’t touch their gear and they won’t touch ours. Though after what you did tonight, they may pull everything of ours that they know about.”

Jack looked down at the floor and rubbed his forehead. “I knew there was a risk of that, but I had to do it. He would have destroyed them all otherwise. This way I at least saved them their equipment. See if you can spin it that way with them.”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll take care of it. Returning their equipment intact will help.”

“By the way, we have a few interlopers.” Jack placed the various surveillance devices on Ianto’s desk and separated several of them out. “Do you know whose these belong to?”

Ianto studied them, picking each one up in turn. “I would have to check to be sure, but it looks like CIA and of course where you find CIA…”

“You have KGB.” Jack shook his head. “The cold war is long over and they're still playing their spy vs. spy games. Anyone else?” 

“The rest are going to be a problem. They’re Israeli made, but not their good stuff. It’s what they sell to foreign governments, so it could be anyone.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t like the idea he is in a room that's been compromised. Well, at least it’s clear now, though we are going to have to keep a better eye on it. Are any of our feeds still working in that suite?”

“No sir, not in the suite itself. But there are some in the room next to his and the one below that are sensitive enough to pick up any sound in his rooms.”

“Good, good work there. Anything happening?” he asked. 

“No, sir, he apparently just went to bed. Do you want me to keep monitoring?”

“Not actively, just set an alarm to go off if the sound level gets above sixty decibels.” Jack hoped that would be sensitive enough. He didn’t want to be answering an alarm every time the Doctor rolled over. That his friend hadn’t used the sonic to disable the sensors in the adjoining rooms troubled him. That was very sloppy and not like the Doctor at all. 

“Is he that dangerous?” Ianto asked. 

“No, not to us at least. He loves humans, even when we’re irritating the heck out of him. It’s his safety I’m worried about now. Something’s happened and his defenses are down.” Jack bit his lip. Trying to keep the Doctor safe when he didn’t want it was going to be difficult. 

He put a hand in his coat pocket and felt the foil packets that he had put there earlier. Pulling them out, he placed them on the Welshman’s desk next to the surveillance equipment. “Here, he won’t be needing these. But we might,” Jack suggested with a grin.

“Are you sure? I thought with the way you ran out of here, when we were...”

“I’m sure, he’s not interested. Never has been. He had a family once. Lost them in a war. Maybe his species mates for life and that was it.” 

“So he’s definitely not human?”

“No, he’s not,” admitted Jack. 

“Then he’s the same Doctor that was mentioned in the Torchwood charter isn’t he?”

“Say again?” Jack asked, hoping he’d heard wrong.

“He’s the Doctor who's the reason Torchwood was founded? The one who was present when 10 Downing Street was blown up and when Torchwood London fell,” Ianto persisted.

“Yes, he is that Doctor,” responded Jack reluctantly. 

“Then we should be taking him prisoner, shouldn’t we?”

“No, we shouldn’t, he’s my friend and I trust him,” came Jack’s curt reply. 

“Sir, I should point out John Hart was once your friend also, but he turned out to be a definite a threat. You might not be very objective in this matter. There had to be a reason he was mentioned in the charter.”

Jack shook his head and sighed. “John Hart was totally different. I never trusted him, I just didn’t distrust him enough. The Doctor is almost the exact opposite of John Hart.” Jack stopped, wanting to tell Ianto that the Doctor made him want to be a better person, had caused him to give up his previous criminal activities. But no, that would make his judgment when it came to the Doctor all the more suspect. He decided to stick to the facts. 

“He’s saved the empire from the ‘alien horde’ more times in one year than Torchwood has in its entire existence,” Jack continued. “I’ve seen the reports from the Torchwood incident. Queen Victoria knighted and banished him in the same day. She was an old woman who was frightened by his knowledge and cavalier manner, in spite of him having saved her life. His being in the charter was revenge on her part for having been scared. His name never should have been there.”

“So he is just a guest then?”

“Yes, he’s a guest and a friend. And I want him treated as such, understand?” 

Ianto blanched under Jack’s stare. “Yes sir, I understand.” He looked down at his monitor. “Sir, there’s some activity in his room.”

“Put it on the speaker,” directed Jack as he hopped off the desk and positioned himself behind Ianto so he had a view of the monitor. His right hand slide slowly down the Welshman’s back, letting him know all was still right between them. 

Then came the sounds of someone thrashing in a bed, soft but desperate cries in a language neither man understood, breathing that was ragged, distressed. Jack bit his lip, fighting the urge to run back to the hotel. He closed his eyes and forced himself to analyze what he was hearing. Nightmare, it was just a nightmare, he told himself, the Doctor wouldn’t thank him for disturbing his sleep. He was about to tell Ianto to turn it off when a sound that could best be described as half howl, half tormented moan filled the room. Jack’s heart nearly shattered as it diminished to a grief stricken whimper. He reached over and switched off the speaker.

Ianto’s face was filled with concern as he looked up at Jack and asked. “You’re going to go to him, aren’t you?”

“No… no… I’m not. Nightmares are not unusual for him and he would be embarrassed if I were to wake him because of one.” Jack studied the monitor. The sound level had never gone above fifty-five decibels, it was the emotional intensity in his cries that had made them seem louder than they actually were. 

“Are you sure he’s alright? It seemed so…”

“I know, if it gets worse I’ll go, but for now he’ll be fine. Any chance you can rig the alarm to go off at the sound of the water turning on?”

“That’s not a problem, but may I ask why?”

“I just want to know when he gets up in the morning. Meet him for breakfast and make sure he eats.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir”

_"Ouch,"_ thought Jack. The formality was back again, along with the jealousy. Time to assure Ianto that there was nothing to worry about.

Jack picked up one of the foil packets that had a gold and red design on it as Ianto programmed the alarm. Jack sat on the desk edge again and looked down at his lover “You’ve been holding out on me,” Jack declared, tapping the brightly colored square on the side of his index finger. “You never told me you had these.”

Ianto blushed. “I was saving them for a special occasion,” he replied.

“Well, I think you’re pretty special. Does that count?” Jack asked hopefully as he leaned back giving the Welshman a smile that was both suggestive and predatory.

Ianto scrunched up his face, acting as if it was very difficult decision. “I think it might be.”

“Great, meet you in my room in ten minutes,” said Jack as he hopped off the desk and left for his quarters. 

Ianto stared after him, a satisfied smile on his face. He considered the display on the monitor and decided to continue recording. In the morning, when Jack was at breakfast, he planned on putting the translation program to work. Whatever the alien was saying could prove to be interesting, if not important.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor grimaced as he stretched in the bed, fighting to wake up. He ached all over, feeling more like he had run a marathon, than had a restful night’s sleep. He was cold. The covers were gone, on the floor most likely. Only a lone sheet had somehow survived the eviction. It had twisted itself uncomfortably around his leg. 

He rubbed the grit out of his eyes and sat up to remove the offending linen. As he did so, his ankle rubbed across the brocade of the bare mattress. The sheet around his leg had apparently started out as the bottom one. He sighed as he untangled it in the faint light provided by the curtained windows.

What had caused him to have such a restless night he had no idea. He uncharacteristically could remember none of his dreams from the night before. That fact disturbed him, but the discomfiture was overwhelmed by a sense of relief. Judging by the condition of the bed and the thick sticky layer of dried sweat that covered his body, he really didn’t want to know what had been the cause of his nocturnal exertions. There were some things the subconscious mind came up with that the conscious mind should never have to endure. 

When he swung his legs over the side, he found his feet buried in the discarded bedclothes, which were piled like a snow drift next to the bed. Wearily he shoved them to one side with his foot and turned on the light, which stood on the nightstand. His hair felt tacky and stiff as he ran his hand through it while he surveyed the damage. Nothing was broken, so the first order of business was obvious, take a shower and get cleaned up. If sweaty Time Lords smelled to humans, anything like sweaty humans did to Time Lords, he must be absolutely reeking right now. 

He gave his spine a twist and cracked his neck, before he stood up to make his way to the en suite. There the bright lights assaulted his eyes causing him to flinch and blink from the discomfort. The cold floor on his bare feet made him seek the small thick towel that served as a temporary rug in hotels to protect them. Prudently he turned on the shower to give the water a chance to warm up, not wanting to add a chilling blast of cold water to his list of complaints. His pajamas made a faint crackling sound as he disgustedly peeled them off his body. Three of the buttons were missing. He shook his head at the discovery. It had truly been a very rough night. 

The warm water welcomed him as he stepped into the shower. Using the shampoo Ianto had provided, he massaged his scalp, working the thick lather into his hair. It had a clean fresh scent, not flowery at all and rinsed out cleanly. He tilted his head back and gave it a shake under the flow of the shower to make sure none remained

The soap was smooth on one side with small raised bumps on the other that stimulated his muscles as he rubbed his body with it, producing a light slippery foam. He enjoyed the sensation of the sweat being dissolved, then washed away by the spray of the shower, leaving behind nothing but clean skin. The difference in sensation between what was clean and what wasn’t was amazing. As if the sweat had been suffocating his skin and once removed, it was breathing in fresh clean air. 

He set the shower head to a massage, causing the warm water to beat on his body, easing his aching muscles. Soon he was clean, relaxed and almost sleepy. He briefly wondered if he could just tell Jack he wanted to spend the day here. He laughed at himself as he realized, his first day on the job so to speak and already he wanted to call in sick. 

Reluctantly he stepped out of the comfort of the shower and toweled himself off. The hotel had provided a terry cloth robe, which he put on letting it absorb some of the moisture the towel had missed. He shaved carefully not wanting a sloppy job to give Jack yet another reason to comment on his condition. When he finished he rubbed his jaw and neck. “Nice and smooth,” he thought as he surveyed his handy work in the mirror, tilting his head as he checked different angles. He finger combed his damp hair drawing the top section forward so it almost stuck out like a shelf. Satisfied for the moment, he returned to the bedroom. 

He picked the quilt up off the floor, spread it on the bed and laid down, folding his hands behind his head. He was enjoying the feeling of relaxation the shower had brought him and wanted to hold on to it a little longer. His breathing slowed as he lay there. Long, deep, full, breaths, the sharp, clean smell of the soap and the soft warmth of the robe adding to his comfort. 

He found himself starting to doze off and jolted himself awake. He was still tired. The night’s sleep hadn’t done much to fix that. But he really didn’t want to sleep now. Raising his arms over his head, he stretched the entire length of his body before he sat up. This time when he left the bed, though he was still fatigued, he wasn’t bleary eyed and aching. It was as if he had a new fresh start to his day. 

In the closet was a clean shirt that Ianto had provided, a light blue silk cotton bend that fitted him perfectly and was excellently made. The material was slick without being shiny and slid sensuously against his skin as he put it on. The seams were so fine he couldn’t feel them. The cuffs and collar just the right amount of crispness without being scratchy or irritating. He smiled. The young man’s taste was impeccable. 

He slowly put on the blue suit as he thought about spending the morning at Torchwood. Going through Torchwood’s junk pile should be an interesting diversion. It was having to interact with people that he dreaded. He didn’t feel up to being social. Hopefully they would leave him alone while he worked. If they were short handed, they must have something more important to do than baby sit him. 

Fully dressed, he went over to the bedroom window and opened the curtains revealing a grey and dreary day. Droplets on the window indicated it was drizzling outside. He watched as one droplet fell down the window, leaving a behind a trail of glistening water, growing larger and falling faster as it merged with other drops. He stopped his reverie with a deep sigh. He was procrastinating. It was time to get going before Jack sent someone to fetch him. He knew it would just be out of concern, but it would be embarrassing none the less. 

He turned away from the window and stopped suddenly when he thought he saw something move outside the hotel, but turning back to look, he saw nothing. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, worried that he was jumping at shadows even in the daylight. He scratched the back of his neck as he searched the sky outside the window. Off in the distance he saw some gulls. That must have been what he had seen.

He left the window and stopped at the mirror on his way out of the bedroom. There he gave his still damp hair a final primp and studied his reflection. He was still a bit pale and drawn, but looked better than he had the night before, maybe enough so that Jack would quit worrying about him. He frowned at the last thought. The reflection in the mirror showed his weariness and sorrow. _“No, that would not do at all,”_ he thought. 

He smiled and raised an eyebrow, much better. He quickly ran through several expressions, furrowing his brow and tilting his head, smiles, half smiles and pursing of lips. Soon he knew which ones to avoid if he wanted to convince Jack he was fine. He relaxed and dropped the façade. He had some time before his acting skills would be tested. There was some tea and a kettle in the main room. Perhaps a cup of tea would put a bit of color back in his face. 

It turned out he had no time at all. When he entered the other room of the suite there was Jack, sitting on the couch, an incredibly pleased smile on his face. Someone had had a good night. That was obvious. The Doctor opened his mouth to inquire as to why he was there, but the captain beat him to the punch.

“Boy, you take longer to get ready than a prom date,” Jack observed as he stood up. 

“I’m not your date,” the Doctor pointed out.

“I know and good thing too. If you were, I would have left by now and gone stag.”

“Not sure that would be a bad thing. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Your suit was ready, Ianto took care of it himself. I didn’t want to attempt to empty your pockets before taking it to a shop. I also brought your coat.” Jack indicated the coat and suit draped over the sofa behind the Doctor. “With the weather here today, I thought you might want it.” Jack looked out the window directing the Doctor’s gaze there. The light shower had increased to a steady rain. 

The Doctor rubbed his chin while he considered the situation. He could use his coat with the way the weather had turned, he had to give Jack that. Perhaps he was just doing a favor instead of trying to nursemaid him. “Yes, well, thank you.”

“Besides, I had ulterior motives for coming over here.”

“Really?” responded the Doctor, more surprised that Jack would admit to having ulterior motives, than that he had them. 

“Yes, the spread they put out for breakfast here is amazing. Two meals come with the room so I thought I would join you for breakfast.”

“I really don’t feel like a huge meal. I was just planning on just having some tea in the room here.”

Jack made a sour face as he looked at the hospitality tray that contained the tea and kettle. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” the Doctor asked, clearly confused.

“Well,” said Jack as he slowly shook his head, “you have no idea how long that tea has been there. For all you know it could be as old as this room. It’s likely to be tea dust by now, not leaves. Come on down with me and have some good tea and perhaps some dry toast. Surely you can handle some toast.”

The Doctor looked down as he rubbed his forehead, hiding the smile that came unbidden to his face. Jack was nursemaiding him and not as subtle about it as he apparently thought he was. Some toast did sound good though, he might as well play along. He looked up to see Jack had already draped the doctor’s coat over his arm. 

“Well, ready to go then?” the captain asked.

“You’re not going to give me much choice are you?”

“Not really,” replied Jack grinning like a cat. “I do have your coat after all. Though if you ever want to part with it…”

“Never!” came the quick response.

Jack feigned a downtrodden expression. “I thought not,” he said sorrowfully, then immediately brightened. “Come on, let’s get you downstairs.”

“Wait, shouldn’t I straighten up a bit? At least pick up my dirty laundry?” the Doctor protested, not wanting anyone to see the condition of the pajamas that he had left on the bathroom floor. 

“No, no need. It will all be taken care of. I paid for extra service. Your laundry will be clean and waiting for you tonight,” explained Jack as he proceeded to usher the Doctor out the door.

“Oh, so your extra money pays for laundry service, but not drinkable tea?”

Jack didn’t even have the decency to be chagrined at the observation, but continued to lead the Doctor down the hallway to the lift. “That will be taken care of tonight. You were a late arrival after all.”

The Doctor gave up, though there were still several holes in Jack’s explanation. Pointing them out would just be an exercise in seeing how creative Jack could be with his answers. Amusing perhaps, but a game he really didn’t feel up to at the moment. 

As he stepped into the lift he again saw something out of the corner of his eye, but resisted the temptation to turn to it. Jack was concerned enough about him, his friend didn’t need to know that he might be seeing things that weren’t there. He concentrated on not leaning against the lift wall for support and trying to appear more chipper than he felt. He doubted however that Jack was fooled, even for a moment.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor picked up a plate from the buffet line and started towards the toast. On the way, some fried mushrooms caught his eye. He put some on his plate, deciding he could handle just a few of them. The eggs didn’t look too bad either, be a shame to pass them up. Of course the tomatoes, good source of vitamin c, a couple of those couldn’t hurt. The baked beans fiber and protein. And well maybe just one sausage. 

By the time he arrived at the toast station there was no more room on his plate, but he didn’t think he needed it now. He did seem to have worked up an appetite overnight. His stomach was growling, indicating it was more than ready for some real food, even if his mind wasn’t.

He made his way to the table Jack had insisted on, tucked away in a corner formed by two glass walls. Jack had explained that if he was going to eat in a gold fish bowl, he wanted to be able to see who was looking in. The Doctor couldn’t fault his reasoning.

His plate made a soft clinking sound as he set it down on the glass table top. Two of the four chrome chairs were occupied by a coat. He saw Jack had already left a plate filled with typical American selections, eggs, a few rashers of bacon, hash browns, and toast. At the smell of the bacon his stomach rumbled. _“Jack has plenty,”_ he thought as he picked up a fork and snatched a rasher for his own plate. _“He won’t miss a rasher… or two.”_ A second piece joined the first.

The Doctor was about to sit down when he realized he didn’t have any tea. There were some pots and tea bags that he had seen when he came in. He guessed it was a help yourself situation and left to get some. 

He had barely taken two steps when he saw something very definite just at the edge of his vision. He stopped and turned, trying to determine what it was. The rain sheeting on the glass distorted the view of the outside world, making it hard to verify what he had seen, if he had indeed seen anything. 

There was nothing there but the normal things one would expect on a work day morning. Cars in the car park. Traffic moving at a slower pace due to the weather. Pedestrians hurrying to get out of the rain. Nothing out of the ordinary or unexpected. Everything as it should be. No one lurking around, trying to get a look at the diners in the restaurant. He sighed and turned away from the window, only to find Jack standing in front of him holding a pot of tea in each hand. 

“Is she back again?” the head of Torchwood asked.

“Who do you mean?” replied the Doctor as he relieved Jack of a teapot and carried it back to the table. Jack followed and waited for them both to be seated before he answered, whispering across the table.

“There’s an Atterian who has been hanging around the bay. She was shadowing me when I walked over here. Pretty amateurish about it too. Was she out there?”

“I’m not sure. I really can’t tell what I saw. Most likely ducked behind a car or something,” the Doctor explained. 

Jack glanced out the window, making it look like he was just disgusted at the rain. But the Doctor could tell he was taking in a lot more. “Well if she was here, she’s gone now,” Jack stated with a shake of his head. He looked down at his plate. 

“I seem to remember having four rashers of bacon.”

“Did you now?” replied the Doctor as he applied a knife and fork to one of the rashers on his plate and popped a piece into his mouth. “You know, it’s not a good sign having memory problems. Didn’t you mention you were starting to see some gray hairs a while back? Age just might be setting in.”

“My memory is fine, thank you. In fact I seem to remember those two rashers of yours being on my plate.”

“Really? You can tell one rasher from another? That’s impressive. Well, if you think they somehow escaped your plate and joined up over here, I’d be happy to return them.” The Doctor looked down at his plate. “Well, one of them. The other one appears to be gone now.”

 

“No you can keep it. It seems to have become acquainted with your baked beans.” Jack said with a grimace. “Never understood how people can eat those for breakfast.”

“I can’t understand how you could turn them down.” To emphasize his point the Doctor took a piece of bacon and swirled it around in the beans before putting into his mouth. He gave Jack a huge grin after he swallowed it. “You really don’t know what you are missing.” 

“I’ll find out at lunch,” Jack replied, nonplused. “Look, let’s get to the main issue. I really wish I knew what the Atterian was up to. She’s been dating this ambassador every time he comes to town.”

“You sure it’s an Atterian?” asked the Doctor as he poured himself some tea. “They usually have pretty short attention spans when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t I know it,” replied Jack with a sly grin. “In my time they made excellent brothel workers. Very willing and often creative, but never wanting anything more than a night. All the fun and none of the commitment problems for the customers. 

“This one is different though, even when the ambassador is away, she still hangs around here. Has a small flat and works in a shop, positively domestic.”

“No other relationships? They tend to be fairly active if memory serves me right.”

Jack laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve been involved with them? I knew they could be seductive but…”

“No!” came the sharp rejoinder. “I was not ‘involved’ with them, at least not in that way.” The Doctor paused briefly and continued in a less strident manner. “But they have at times, wreaked havoc on some heads of state’s egos and I had to intervene before they started a war to prove their manliness or in one case, her womanliness, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I know how that can be,” Jack replied as he rubbed his chin. “I remember the first time one refused to take me as a client the second night. It can be quite a blow, even if you know their habits. You always think you might be the one exception. 

“That’s what has me curious. I don’t see what makes this ambassador so special. She has been loyal to him, at least when she is in human form. But there have been some strange reports from the zoo across the bay of animal counts being off. 

“Animal counts being off?”

“Yeah, they did an emergency shut down one time, when there were seven tigers in the enclosure and then only six. Didn’t open again till late the next day, when they confirmed they only had ever had six tigers, despite what the CCTV showed. Decided it was just some kind of data glitch in the camera and it superimposed an image. I’m pretty sure it was our friend though.”

“So now she’s following you. Maybe she got bored with the zoo visits,” commented the Doctor as he set down his fork. 

“No, that’s not it. She would have been more direct, never known one to be coy.” Jack suddenly looked in the direction of the restaurant entrance. The Doctor followed his gaze and saw a distinguished older gentleman, tall, medium build with snowy white hair and mustache, both perfectly trimmed and maintained. He was wearing a tweed hacking jacket and bow tie. With him was a middle aged woman, dark brown hair, attractive, but not flashy, in a conservative brown suit that was almost frumpy. 

“Is that them?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes, it is,” replied Jack, worry showing in his voice. “Excuse me, I need to go check something out.”

Jack pushed back from the table and left the restaurant. The Doctor could see him at the reception desk, turning on the charm for the young clerk. He looked down at his plate, during the conversation he had consumed almost everything on it. Still hungry, he decided to go after some fruit that he had seen earlier. 

He walked past the ambassador’s table on his way to the buffet and felt the Atterian watching him as he went by. There was some good fruit at the buffet, soon he filled a small plate with it and some cheese. The tea at the table, he was sure was cold by now and decided to get another pot while he was up. He was filling a pot with hot water when he heard a voice next to him.

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” 

The Doctor turned to see the Atterian looking up at him hopefully, with impossibly brilliant blue eyes. “Not that far actually. Why do you ask?” 

“Oh, you just looked a bit lonely and out of place is all. I saw your friend leave you, do you want to join us?” She rested her hand lightly on the sleeve of his jacket, in a way that promised friendship more than seduction. 

The Doctor looked over his shoulder to see Jack still talking at the reception desk. “Thank you, but no. He'll be back soon and then we have some things we need to attend to. Enjoy your breakfast,” he said with a smile before turning away, letting her hand fall from his arm. To his relief she didn’t follow him, but instead proceeded to make up her own pot of tea. 

When he sat down at the table, a waitress came to take his plate away. After she picked it up, she reached for Jack’s. “No, leave it please, he should be coming back soon,” explained the Doctor. The waitress smiled at him and left. The Doctor watched her go. Jack, who was no longer talking to the reservations clerk, but was instead on his mobile, pacing back and forth in the reception, caught his eye, causing him to wonder what was up.

With a sigh he turned his attention to his breakfast. He would find out later what the problem was. The fruit was good, fresh pineapple, melon, blueberries and strawberries. The cheese was unfortunately in plastic packets. When he had picked it up, he’d hoped it wouldn’t taste as processed as it looked, but that turned out not to be the case. Why, when everything else was so well made, the restaurant would fail so miserably on the cheese, he had no idea. 

He had just finished the fruit, when Jack returned to the table. “Everything taken care of?” the Doctor asked.

Jack shook his head. “No, something is up. The ambassador has moved out of his regular hotel and is now staying in this one. Coincidentally, right next to where you are staying. The clerk told me he had specifically requested that suite. Claimed he wanted that one for sentimental reasons.

“I had Ianto check the records as far back as he could and the ambassador has never stayed here. He also checked the other hotel and the ambassador checked out of it this morning, claiming the room was infested with cockroaches.”

“And you don’t believe it?”

“No, that hotel is too well maintained to have cockroaches or any other kind of infestation. Someone must have brought them in.”

“Our Atterian friend?” 

“That’s who I suspect,” answered Jack before he took a bite of toast. “This is cold! I must have been away longer than I thought, but they usually do a good job of clearing off the plates here. I can’t believe they left it when I was gone for so long.”

“That is strange,” replied the Doctor, his voice innocence itself. 

Jack looked at him sharply. “I’ll go fix myself a new plate and this time when they come to take my plate away, let them.”

“What? Are you implying I would interfere with them doing that?” The Doctor looked at him wide eyed and smiled.

“Yes I am and when I get back, you can tell me what you and the Atterian were talking about,” answered Jack as he pushed away from the table. 

The Doctor sipped his tea and stared out the window. The rain was coming down even harder. The clouds were dark, threatening. There was something wrong, almost evil, about them. As he stared at them, he could see them sinking closer to the earth, threatening to smother everything. His breath started coming in short gasps, his throat tight and dry, he felt as if he was choking. His shoulders were painfully taut with fear. Then, as if an electric shock had gone up his spine, he jerked erect and let out a long breath. 

Outside he saw the clouds were just a normal gray, a good mile or two above the bay, not threatening at all. He put his hand to eyes and rubbed them hard enough to cause pain that focused his thoughts. _“Where did that come from?”_ he wondered. _“It seemed so real.”_ He pinched the bridge of his nose then rubbed the side of his face. _“Must just have triggered some memory of that nightmare last night.”_ though try as he might he still could remember nothing of it. _“Strange how the mind works,”_ he mused as he pushed his concern away. 

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he looked around with fresh eyes. The rain wasn’t getting harder. It was in fact, lessening somewhat and the sun was becoming more apparent. The traffic outside was flowing smoothly, the pedestrians walking leisurely, no longer rushing to escape the elements. A very pleasant and relaxing scene, with the promise of an even better day ahead. 

“Are you all right sir?” asked the waitress who had been at the table earlier. 

“I’m fine, really, just had a bit of a headache, it’s gone now. Thank you though.” He looked around worriedly. “I didn’t make a scene, did I?”

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t. I was just coming over here to clear your friend’s plates. I saw him back at the buffet. I don’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Oh good,” replied the Doctor as he scratched the back of his head. “I really don’t like to draw attention to myself.”

“You must find that pretty hard to do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, you are very attractive and it’s hard for someone not to notice you, as tall as you are.” Before the Doctor could reply she changed the subject, leaning in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not supposed to do this, but they made some fresh squeezed orange juice for some government stiff and his companion. I can get some for you, if you want.”

The Doctor flashed her his best smile. “That would be nice, thank you.”

“Good, I’ll be right back with it.” She gathered up Jack’s dishes and left almost running into Jack who was coming back with a new plate of food.

“So, you’ve been flirting with Meredith?” Jack asked as he seated himself.

“No, she just wanted to know if I wanted some orange juice.”

“Don’t tell me fresh squeezed? Left over from some special customer?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact it is. How did you know?” 

Jack gave a quick snort of laughter. “Because that’s what she gets me when I flirt with her. You were flirting.”

“I was not! That may your way of getting things, but it certainly isn’t mine,” the Doctor responded incredulously. “I was just being polite is all.”

Jack’s rejoinder was prevented by Meredith’s return with two glasses of orange juice. “Thank you Meredith. You’re taking good care of my friend here I see,” observed Jack. He rewarded the waitress with his biggest smile as she placed a glass of orange juice in front of him.

“Well, I knew you would want some, since it was available, and he did seem to be in a bit of difficulty earlier.”

Jack looked sharply at the Doctor, who had decided to study the cars in the car park. “Did he now? I’m glad you were here to help him.”

Meredith shook her head. “I really didn’t do anything. He was fine by the time I got here.” She looked over her shoulder and frowned. “I should get back to work. Is there anything else you want?” 

“We’re fine, Meredith, thank you,” the captain responded.

The waitress left the table and Jack turned to the Doctor. “What was this difficulty?”

The Doctor gave a quick shake of his head. “It was nothing, just a sudden headache. It left as soon as it came.”

Jack looked at him carefully. “You sure? I don’t like the timing. The Atterian talks to you and then you suddenly get a headache. She did have her hand on your arm. Perhaps she slipped you a drug that’s absorbed through your skin. When I was with the agency we would do that all the time.”

“She didn’t slip me anything. Her hand was on my sleeve, not my skin. All she did was come over and ask if I wanted to join them at their table. She’d thought you had abandoned me.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t like it. I think she is targeting you, for what I don’t know. There may be something on your jacket, you should take it off and your shirt.” 

“I’m not going to strip down in a restaurant,” replied the Doctor incredulously. “I am perfectly fine. Now why don’t you quit worrying about me and eat your breakfast before it goes cold again.” The Doctor reached for his orange juice only to have Jack grab his wrist and stop him.

“What? You’re afraid of the orange juice now? You’re getting ridiculous Jack.”

“At least let me try it first.”

“Drink your own.” With a twist of his arm the Doctor broke free of Jack’s grip and picked up the orange juice. He took a sip and found it quite good. Tart and pulpy, just the way he liked it. He finished it off before setting the glass down.

“See, no problem. It was perfectly fine. Absolutely nothing to worry about.” He reached for the teapot, stopping Jack from intercepting him with a glare. 

“Alright, alright,” said Jack as he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just concerned that she is up to something.”

“Of course she is up to something,” replied the Doctor. “But I doubt that something involves poisoning me in a restaurant. You don’t need to check out everything I intend to put in my mouth.”

“I’m not sure I would want to, considering your breakfast choices.”

“My breakfast choices are fine thank you. You’ve just been pretending to be an American for too long and it’s affecting your sense of taste. You’re so eager to try out everything in, um.., other aspects of your life. I can’t believe you are so pedestrian when it comes to food.”

Jacked choked on the piece of egg he was about to swallow. “What? My sense of taste is fine and has nothing to do with ‘other pursuits’ as you put it. It’s your taste I worry about. Next, you’re going to tell me black pudding is delicious.”

“Well it is. In fact, I’m surprised they didn’t have any.”

“Okay,” laughed Jack. “Just let me finish my breakfast in peace. I am going to check out your jacket when we get to the Hub. I don’t believe that was just casual contact.”

“It wasn’t. She put a microscopic homing device on me. I figured I would take care of it once we left the restaurant.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?” asked Jack. 

“Because it was none of your business. I do know how to take care of myself. I don’t need you acting like a mother hen.”

“She’s an alien, that makes it my business.”

“Not as far as I am concerned. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know anything you need to know. If you are so bothered about her, why don’t you pick her up for questioning?”

“I can’t. As soon as she latched on to the ambassador, both MI5 and UNIT became involved. I have to clear it through channels.”

Now it was the Doctor’s turn to laugh. “You, clearing things through channels? You’ve become positively domesticated, Jack. I’m surprised. Next you are going to tell me you worry about payroll and budgets and things.”

“Well, people do have to eat and pay rent. We don’t all have the luxury of just skipping out on a whim,” responded Jack, looking pointedly at his broken vortex manipulator. Pushing back his chair with a screech, he stood up and put a five pound note on the table. 

“Come on,” he said as he put on his coat. “I need to get back.”

“I thought breakfast was included with the room,” the Doctor commented as he stood and reached for his own coat.

“It is. That’s called a tip. If I want to get more of the good orange juice, I need to leave one of those.” 

“Oh, so just your charming personality isn’t enough?” 

“Unfortunately not.”

“Hmm, you’re slipping Jack, you know that?”

“If I am, it’s because of you,” came Jack’s sharp retort as he helped the Doctor on with his coat. “Let’s go, I’ve got the SUV parked outside.”

“I’d rather walk,” commented the Doctor as he followed Jack out of the restaurant. “I wanted to check on the TARDIS.” 

“I wouldn’t advise it,” replied Jack seriously, as he held open the door to the car park. “She’s still not in a very good mood. We’ll drive by and you can see for yourself.”

 

Jack pulled the SUV to the side of the road, offering the Doctor a clear view of the TARDIS, ignoring the horns of the upset drivers behind him. Studying the Plass, the Doctor could see what Jack meant. Though the water tower was a major tourist attraction, there was no one near it. People who were walking towards it would suddenly alter their course and veer away, leaving about a forty meter ‘dead zone’ around the ship. Even from this distance the Doctor could feel the TARDIS pushing him away. He’d hoped she would be better this morning, but now he worried she might never forgive him. 

He stared down at the floorboards, feeling cast adrift, very small and lonely. Dejected, he said to Jack, “I’ve seen enough. Let’s get on to that base of yours.”

Grim faced, Jack said nothing as he put the car in gear and drove off.


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor and Jack arrived at the Hub to find Ianto hard at work at his terminal, oblivious to their entry. He looked up only when he heard Myfanwy’s cry, as the pteranodon dove at the Doctor. There was a loud thud, as a taloned foot hit the Doctor’s shoulder causing him to cry out and stumble. Jack managed to grab him before he fell into the water at the base of the fountain. 

“Jack, are you sure this is just a greeting?” the Doctor asked as he recomposed himself, rubbing his injured shoulder, while warily watching Myfanwy return to her post in the upper reaches of the hub. “It seems a bit violent.” 

“I really don’t know what’s got into her,” replied Jack as he removed the Doctor’s coat and ushered him into a vacant chair under an overhang.

Safely seated, the Doctor tried moving his shoulder and winced. “Well, until you do, I’ll try to keep out of the open when I am here.” 

“Will this help sir?” The Doctor looked up to see Ianto holding out an ice pack.

“Yes, thank you,” said Jack as he took it from the young man. 

“Ouch,” complained the Doctor as Jack applied the pack to the back of his shoulder. “Do you have to be so rough?”

“I’m being not rough,” Jack objected. “It does have to be in contact with you to work, you know.”

“Sir, I could get you some tea if you want,” Ianto interjected. 

"Yes, yes, and you can stop being so formal around me,” the Doctor replied irritatedly. He looked up to see the Welshman was rather distressed at the reprimand. “Sorry, that came out a little harsher than I intended. Not used to being attacked right after breakfast. No, I take that back, I should be used to that by now. Just please don’t keep calling me sir. I find it unnerving, like I’ve been drafted into the civil service or something.”

Ianto looked questioningly at Jack. “Just humor him,” Jack said. “He has some odd quirks at times.”

“I do not have odd quirks. You’re the ones keeping a pet that enjoys using guests for target practice,” declared the Doctor, peering nervously from under the overhang at the prehistoric predator as she lazily circled far above him. “You do feed her well, don’t you? I don’t relish the idea of being her midmorning snack.”

“She's quite well fed,” Jack assured him. “I really don’t know what her interest is in you. Maybe she just recognizes another ancient being and wants to play.” 

The Doctor twisted in the chair to fix Jack with a stony stare. “You’re no spring chicken yourself. Why doesn’t she want to play with you?”

“Actually she does. She’s a whiz at basketball. Makes a great point guard,” Jack replied cheerfully.

“Really? You sure she doesn’t just consume the opposition?” the Doctor asked.

“I’m sure, at least the head count is the same after the game as before. Though there was that one game…” Jack smiled. “Really, she’s not bad at all. I don’t know why she has such a thing for you.”

“I have your tea, Si… should I call you Doctor?” Ianto asked as he held out the tea. 

“Doctor is fine,” the Doctor answered as he took the tea and tried a sip. “This is very good, thank you.”

“Ianto, did you get things straightened out?” Jack asked.

The Welshman frowned and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry Jack. UNIT was no problem, they understood and thanked us for saving their equipment. MI5, however, was not at all pleased and has threatened to destroy all of our devices that they can find. I tried to explain what the situation was, but they want to talk to you in person about it.”

“Great, you did tell them I was busy with a special guest, didn’t you?” 

“Yes I did, and they said they would very much like you to bring this guest with you.” 

“That’s not going to happen,” Jack declared. “Who do they think they are, anyway?”

“An agency with a lot more personnel than we have, who can make our lives miserable if we aren’t careful?”

“Dammit, I don’t like this.”

“I can go with you,” the Doctor offered. “I might find it interesting.”

“You might find it permanent,” came Jack’s rejoinder. “I’ll deal with them. Ianto, is it the office here, or do I have to go to London?”

“It’s the one here.”

“That at least is good news. Take care of my friend here. Get him anything he wants.” Jack removed the ice pack from the Doctor’s shoulder. “Is it better now?”

 

The Doctor tested his shoulder. “Yes, it’s much better thank you. You sure you don’t want me to come with you? It might be easier for you.”

“No, thanks for the offer, but no. This is one of those cases where if we give an inch they’ll take a mile. In fact, here.” Jack removed his vortex manipulator and handed it to the Doctor. “I don’t want that on me when I get there. Hang on to it for me, and if you want, you can fix it.

Jack looked at the Doctor hopefully, then frowned. “Alright, you can’t blame a guy for trying. I’m off. You kids behave yourselves and wish me luck.” The captain then left the Hub, his stride purposeful but not rushed.

The Doctor turned to Ianto, who was studying him, a concerned look on his face. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He stood up, smiled and held out his hand. “I’m the Doctor and you are Ianto I believe.”

“Yes Doctor, I’m pleased to meet you,” replied Ianto and he took the offered hand. “I gather you and Jack have known each other for a while.”

“Oh, we go back further than either one of us would like to admit. But really, it’s all very boring. Why don’t you show me this alien technology you need my help puzzling out.”

“Yes, Doctor, right this way. It’s out the back.”

Ianto lead him down a corridor to a large wooden door with an odd collection of modern and archaic locks on it. With practiced ease the Welshman dealt with all the locks and opened the portal. The Doctor stood stunned and opened mouthed by what he saw in the middle of the room, a Cyber conversion unit.

“Jack surely doesn’t expect me to get that working for him.”

Looking at the conversion unit, Ianto’s expression was unreadable, but the Doctor suspected he saw sorrow and regret on the man’s face. “No, in fact it is functional. It’s from Torchwood London.”

Slowly walking around the device the Doctor studied it. This shouldn’t be here at all. It should have been sucked back into the void with the Cybermen. He put on the glasses that allowed him to see the void particles. Trace amounts, more likely from contact with contaminated objects, not enough for this to have been in the void itself. Made in this universe, that was disturbing. He wondered what else they had left behind.

“It’s not being used, is it?” the Doctor asked sharply as he returned the glasses to his pocket.

“No it’s not.” Ianto’s voice was too controlled, devoid of emotion. He was clearly becoming troubled by this conversation. The Doctor realized he was another person who had suffered at the hands of the Cybermen.

He surveyed the rest of the room studying it carefully. There was plenty here to keep him occupied. “Well, I think I can get started. You don’t need to stay here. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”

“If you’re sure you don’t need any assistance.”

“I’m sure. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Alright then, I’ll get back to my duties.”

With the Welshman gone, it was time to get to work. The Doctor decided the first order of business should be pulling the teeth on the Cyber conversion unit. There was no possible good reason he could think of for it to be operational. 

The device was in two parts, the table where the victim would be strapped down and the surgical unit which was above it. He aimed his sonic at the surgical unit, removing the bolts one by one that secured it to the support arm. They fell on the table with a musical ring before rolling off and landing on the concrete floor with a plink. 

Suddenly there was a loud metallic screech as the unit swung free, now held in the air precariously by only one bolt which the Doctor promptly removed. It landed on the table with a satisfying crash, significantly damaging both units. 

This, however, was not enough for the Doctor in his current mood. The technology was not that advanced, it was just perverted, which made it the most dangerous thing in the room. It would be easy for someone to reproduce what John Lumic had created with the hints contained in the remaining parts of the machine. 

As he took it apart, he briefly considered each piece to determine if it should be saved or destroyed. He used his sonic to take demolish whatever parts he felt were too dangerous to remain intact, before throwing it into a pile where they would clank, clatter or shatter upon landing. He found his aversion to the equipment such that there was ultimately very little that he saved. A few nuts and bolts were all that survived his judgment. 

He stood over the remains of the razed machine, a satisfied smile on his face. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat, but it felt good to get rid of that evil. Almost cathartic, knowing what he was doing was the right thing. Surveying his work, he saw a small flicker of light. He aimed his sonic at it and there was a pop accompanied by a puff of smoke. _“There, good and dead,”_ he thought, the acrid smell of the destroyed circuit was actually pleasant to him, a sign of accomplishment. 

He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Quickly he twisted around to see Ianto holding a tray of food, a stunned expression on his face. For a second, the Doctor wondered if perhaps he should have told Jack or Ianto what he was going to do, before he so utterly annihilated the machine. He was about to explain his actions, when the Welshman spoke. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, in his eyes a mixture of sadness and relief. 

“You’re welcome. I trust you have no problems with this?

“No, no. We should have done that long ago. _I_ should have done that long ago.”

The Doctor took the tray from the stricken Torchwood employee, partially from kindness, but mostly from concern that his lunch might soon hit the floor. “I gather this has some personal significance to you, then?” asked the Doctor, as he searched for a safe horizontal surface on which to place the tray.

“Yes, you could say that. I was at Torchwood London when it fell.”

“You lost someone?” He turned towards the young man, still holding the tray he had been unsuccessful in finding a suitable landing place for. 

“My fiancée,” answered Ianto taking the tray from the Doctor and setting it down on a small round table, tucked away in the corner of the room. “She had been converted… partially. I had thought the right person could reverse it and I could have her back. I was wrong, as it turned out.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. “You know, there is more here than I could possibly eat. Care to join me?”

Ianto shook his head. “No, thank you, I already ate. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Is Jack back yet?”

“No,” Ianto furrowed his brow and frowned. “He should be though.”

“I wouldn’t worry. Jack can take care of himself,” the Doctor assured him, as he sat down in a chair next to the table. He picked up a sandwich and bit into it. 

“I know, it’s just sometimes he…” Ianto didn’t finish the sentence. 

Looking up from his meal the Doctor saw the young man considering him carefully. He could tell the Welshman had an unspoken question on his mind.

“Yes?” the Doctor asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

It was very quiet in the room as Ianto bit his lip, warring with himself before he responded. “Is it true what Jack says about you?”

“I don’t know. What does he say?”

“That your species mates for life.”

The Doctor nearly choked on his sandwich. That was just about the last question he expected. “He said what?!”

“That your species mate for life, he said that’s why…” Ianto stammered to a halt, too embarrassed to continue.

Suddenly things became clear to the Doctor, the rude attitude the night before, the condoms in the suitcase. Apparently his arrival had interrupted something and now this man wanted to know if the Doctor was competition.

“No, we don’t mate for life. However, to answer your real question, I’m not interested in Jack. At least not that way.”

“But every time you turn up, Jack leaves to be with you. Once even when the base was under attack.” 

“But he always comes back, doesn’t he? I’ve given him a chance to travel with me. He turned me down. Said he wanted to get back to the people here. I gather that at least one of those people is you.”

“If you’re not interested in him, why would you ask him to travel with you?”

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. _“Humans, why did they have to complicate everything by bringing sex into it?”_ he bemoaned to himself. “Look, Jack is a good friend and a great person to have your back. That is why I made him the offer. I’m not interested in him in the way you seem to think I am. Honestly.”

“But he was flirting with you and…”

“Doesn’t he flirt with just about everyone?”

“Well, yes, but you seem special to him. With you, it seems like he means it more.”

“Maybe because with me he knows it’s not going to happen,” the Doctor tried reasonably. One glance at the distraught young man told him that wasn’t going to be enough. He sighed, so much for a quiet lunch. “Look, sit down and I’ll see if I can explain it to you.”

Ianto pulled up a chair, dragging it along the floor with a loud screech, before noisily unfolding it in front of the table. The Doctor winced internally. This was going to be difficult. He pulled Jack’s vortex manipulator out of his pocket.

“Do you know what this is?”

“It’s Jack’s vortex manipulator, a former acquaintance of his came here with one. He could use it to travel in time and teleport. Jack’s seems to be broken.”

“Good, so you know he’s from the future?” the Doctor asked, relieved that Ianto did know something of Jack’s past.

“Yes, that actually was pretty obvious, even before he let us in on it.”

“That’s one thing we have in common, we both are both from the future. He was actually born a few centuries after me. And we also both travel in time. Well, in his case, used to travel in time.” The Doctor hoped his time travel was still in the present tense. 

“So we are just comfortable around each other and that’s all it is, and I don’t need it to be any more, I don’t want it to be anymore.” 

“But don’t you have someone to…” again Ianto’s speech fumbled into an uncomfortable silence.

“No, I don’t and I don’t need to. I’m not human, it’s not the constant drive it is with your species. You lot feel the need to fill every available space with more humans. In Jack’s time, with time travel, more advanced transportation and colonization technology, that need went into overdrive as if some genetic trigger had been tripped and your whole species became very intent on spreading its genetic code any way it could. Jack is just a product of his time.” 

Studying the young man, the Doctor could tell he was understanding what he was being told, but he wasn’t convinced. The Doctor took a deep breath and continued.

“He flirts with everyone and everything, as near as I can tell. He just can’t help himself, it’s part of who he is. If you’re going to be upset every time he does it, you are going to be in for a lot of upset. He turned down a chance to explore entire galaxies, to travel Throughout time to be with you. Isn’t that proof enough it’s you he wants?”

Ianto squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. “Yes, I suppose you are right. But, I think if he felt there was a chance with you.”

“It’s not going to happen. We are friends, that is it. He has you and I don’t need or want that kind of complication in my life. People are hurt enough when I have to leave them behind for their own good, without adding that kind of emotional baggage into the mix. As I told you in the beginning, it’s really not important to me and definitely not important enough to risk the kind of suffering it will eventually cause the people I care about.”

“But, you don’t have to leave them behind.”

“Yes I do. Eventually, everyone either leaves me or I leave them. It’s inevitable.”

An annoying beeping sound interrupted whatever Ianto was going to say in response. The young man pulled a communication device out of his pocket as he stood up, scowling at the screen. “I’m sorry, you will have to excuse me, someone’s just entered the Hub. I need to see who it is.”

“Could it be Jack?” the Doctor asked hopefully.

“No, the SUV is still at MI5 and Gwen shouldn’t be back yet. But whoever it is knew how to get past all the alarms. I’d best go and check into it.”

“Need any help?”

“No, I know how to do my job, thank you,” came the testy reply.

 _“Ouch,”_ thought the Doctor as he watched the retreating back of the Welshman. The prickly attitude was back in full force. He should have just told the man Jack was right, he mated for life and ended the discussion there. Honest candor had only made things worse. 

He was about to follow Ianto, his curiosity piqued as to who the intruder might be, when his eye caught a piece of equipment that was very definitely out of place here. When he strode towards it, it started to hum, as if it had been waiting for him.


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor was only one stride from the oblong object, when the humming stopped. Suddenly there was a flash and a loud bang as sparks flew everywhere. Rushing forward, he knelt down in front of the wounded device, watching with dismay as thick black smoke rose from it. He grimaced at the sharp unpleasant odor, waving away the smoke before he tentatively reached out to touch it. With a yelp, he pulled his hand back and shook it. It was way too hot for him to work with at the moment. 

He sat back on his heels and sighed, everything from Gallifrey seemed to be giving him problems these days. Pulling on his lower lip he studied the device carefully while it cooled. It was fairly large, about two thirds of a meter long and a third of a meter wide. Its housing was made of a light brass colored metal that had a silvery sheen. Streaks of soot radiated from a crack where the smoke had escaped, marring its surface. It was etched with Gallifreyan symbols that described its function. Frowning as he read them and he realized what it was. 

He had never seen one before, but knew the theory behind it. It detected and separated life forces. The Gallifreyan high council had commissioned it when the Master had started taking over other beings to extend his own life, after he had run out of regenerations. It was both useful and hazardous. It could free a person who was possessed by another life force or rip their own life force right out of their body, leaving an empty vessel to be occupied. 

In the wrong hands, it could also shatter a life force, what some might call shredding the soul, in some ways, worse than death. To his mind it was more like a device to be used by the Master, instead of a weapon to be used against him. It might be best if instead of repairing it, he destroyed it. 

He gingerly touched the surface. It was cool now. His hand rested lightly on it as he thought about what to do. This really was very dangerous in the wrong hands and he wasn’t sure that Jack’s hands were the right ones. The TARDIS would be one possible safe place for it. If he could convince Jack to give it to him and if he ever managed to get back into the TARDIS himself. He had a very strong feeling that it was evil, should never have been created, but it was also from his home and that alone made him loath to destroy it. 

_“I might as well look inside and see what damage has been done before I make any decisions,”_ he thought with a sigh. _“If nothing else, I should at least try to find out why it reacted to me.”_

The device sat on the table where the Doctor had started to work on it. He’d moved the tray of sandwiches and the tea to the chair Ianto had vacated. A cucumber sandwich in one hand, he proceeded to remove the housing, exposing the insides of the apparatus. He smiled as he saw the familiar engineering of his home planet. No foreign elements as were on the TARDIS, pure Gallifreyan technology, and though it may have looked complex to human eyes, he couldn’t help admiring the brilliant simplicity of it. 

Like the TARDIS, it was bigger on the inside. He wondered why they had bothered to make it so bulky when it could have been quite compact, easily slipped into a pocket. His eye was immediately drawn to the failed component. It was squarish, about the size of his thumb. The damage was readily apparent, it was black, with a hole in the middle where the outer covering had melted away. 

He was reaching for it when he suddenly realized there was something on his right. Quickly he turned and looked, twisting around in his chair as he tried to find what had caught his attention. He stood up, oblivious that he had knocked over the chair in his haste. Scanning the room, he could find nothing. No apparent exit other than the one he had come in by. But he was sure there had been something, that it wasn’t just his imagination. 

His hand went unbidden to his head, trying to massage away the pain that he hadn’t been aware was there. Maybe that was what he had seen, just an aura, a precursor to the headache. The pain wasn’t leaving, perhaps some tea would help. He stepped around the table to get to the tea and fell over the forgotten chair, cracking his shin sharply. As he fell, he put his hand on the table in an effort to catch himself, but instead caused the table to tip, resulting in both table and Time Lord falling to the floor. On the way down, his arm connected with the tray on the chair, sending the sandwiches flying and the tea pot, cup and saucer crashing to the floor. He was wincing as he untangled himself from the chair, when he heard laughter from the entrance to the storeroom. 

“Hello,” he said, as he stood up, brushing some of the remains of the lunch from his suit, as he tried to regain his composure. In the doorway stood a young woman, medium build, with a curvy figure, black hair and clear hazel eyes. He recognized her instantly. “You must be Gwen. Jack told me you were on holiday, not that I’m unhappy to see you here. I’m the Doctor by the way, pleased to meet you in person at last.” He walked over to her and held out his hand. 

Gwen took his hand in a firm handshake that bespoke confidence. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. Jack speaks highly of you. The few times he does talk about you, that is.” To the Doctor’s surprise she then stood on tip toe and reached up to the top of his head. Startled he started to step back, then saw the piece of rye bread she had retrieved from his hair. 

“Oh my, thank you. I’d have looked quite ridiculous if I had gone out like that. I gather you were the intruder Ianto went to check on.” 

An almost musical laughter erupted from Gwen. “Yes, that was me. I was at my workstation when he popped around the corner with his gun drawn. Startled me so much I almost shot him.” 

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up at that last comment. 

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t all that close. My gun barely cleared its holster when I realized who it was. It was my fault really. I should have called ahead and let him know I was cutting my vacation short.” 

“Why did you cut your vacation short? Jack didn’t call you back, did he?” 

“No, this time it was my husband Rhys who was called back to work. Strangest thing, all his company’s lorries wouldn’t start this morning. Don’t know why they called him back, he’s not a mechanic, but his boss was having a fit so off he went. So,” she put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room, ”what have you been up to here?” 

Feeling a bit sheepish the Doctor explained that Jack had asked him to sort out the technology there. “But, I’m afraid so far all I’ve managed to do is destroy that Cyber conversion unit, and then that device on the table broke when I approached it. At this rate, the captain might fire me before the day is over.” 

“I doubt he’d do that. I know he’s been meaning to destroy that table for a while, just never seemed to have the time. Though he might be upset that you didn’t sort the pieces out properly for recycling.” 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize, should have though, shouldn’t I. Jack was talking about all the protocols he had to follow now. So what are the categories; metal, electronics, glass and petroleum derivatives, like plastic?” He turned to make his way to the remains of the Cyber unit. 

“You don’t have to do that, I was just having you on,” she said with a laugh. 

Oh, right, I’m a bit out of my element I’m afraid.” The Doctor winced as his headache regained his attention with a stabbing pain right between his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked, as she put a hand out to him. 

The Doctor blinked and looked down at his arm, wondering why her hand was there, when he realized he was swaying and she was trying to steady him. With a quick shake he straightened himself up, forcing the dizziness from his body. “I’m fine, just a bit of a headache, nothing to worry about,” he replied more cheerfully than he felt. “I was actually about to get some tea for it when you came in.” 

He looked over at the fallen tray and shattered pot. Gwen followed his gaze and shook her head slowly. “I don’t think that is going to help you now. Come on, let’s get you some more. At least that isn’t one of Ianto’s favorite pots. He’d be if a right snit if you had broken one of those.” 

“It was an accident,” the Doctor explained as he followed Gwen down the hallway. 

“I know, I saw. Somehow I thought you would’ve been more graceful.” 

“Usually I am, got a bit distracted, that's all.” He shook his head as he remembered the incident, only to immediately regret that action. His headache was really taking hold. He entered the hub, staying under the overhang. Jack was at Ianto’s workstation, smiling as the talked to the Welshman. The Doctor went over to the couch by the wall and sat down heavily. Jack looked up at the sound and frowned. 

“I found him on the floor in the store room,” Gwen explained before the Doctor could say anything. 

“What? What happened?” asked Jack as he rushed over. 

“It was nothing really. I tripped over a chair,” said the Doctor as he rubbed his head, wishing everyone would stop being so loud. 

“Did you hit your head?” Jack’s concern was apparent in his voice as he sat down next to the Doctor, studying him carefully. 

“No, I just have a headache. That’s all. I’m fine. I just need some tea and a little quiet if you don’t mind,” replied the Doctor, who was staring at the floor as he rubbed his head, refusing to meet Jack’s gaze. 

“Ianto, get us some tea here,” Jack yelled causing the Doctor to wince and duck his head away from the sound. “Oh sorry,” Jack apologized. “Is there anything else you could use?” 

“Some citrus.” 

“Citrus?” 

“Yes, citrus, you know, oranges, grapefruit, lemons,” explained the Doctor. 

“I’ll go get some,” Gwen offered, picking up her purse and heading out the door. 

“Your tea, sir,” said Ianto holding out a steaming cup of tea on a saucer. 

“Thank you,” replied the Doctor. He looked up at Ianto and briefly considered correcting him on the sir, but decided it was best not to. Especially after the mess he had made in the store room. 

The tea did help. The Doctor sipped it while Jack sat next to him worriedly asking questions. 

“Is there anything else we can get you? I know you can’t have an aspirin.” 

“Actually I can,” the Doctor informed Jack. “It just isn’t all that effective, makes it hurt less, but doesn’t really eliminate the pain.” 

“But, I’ve read UNIT’s file on you. A Jo Grant reported that you should never be given aspirin, that it would kill you. She put quite a bit of emphasis on that and it’s cross-referenced just about everywhere in your file.” 

The Doctor sighed, leave it to the military to take everything he said as gospel. “That’s just because of an offhand comment I made when I was irritated. I didn’t want to take anything, I just wanted to sleep. So it was aspirin she was trying to give me? I never did know what it was. I just didn’t want an argument.” 

“Then aspirin doesn’t hurt you at all?” confirmed Jack. 

“No, it just tastes bad. I have no idea how you humans can stand it.” 

Jack laughed. “That’s why we swallow it quickly, with lots of water.” 

“I’ll have to try that next time. This tea is helping though.” The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out. “Actually I’m feeling much better.” He looked up to see Ianto was still there. “What’s in this? It has a slight bitterness to it.” 

“I added some willow bark,” the Welshman explained. 

“Well Jack, see I’m not dead,” the Doctor laughed softly. 

“What? What do you mean? What’s the joke?” 

“Aspirin is made from willow bark,” the Doctor explained. 

Jack stood up suddenly, accidentally knocking the Doctor’s arm as he did so. The tea cup rattled on the saucer before tipping over, foiling the Doctors attempts to steady it. The remains of the tea spilled onto the floor. “Ianto, what did you think you were doing?” Jack exclaimed. “Didn’t you check his file? What if that report had been correct? You could have killed him.” 

“Jack, I checked for food allergies. The file didn’t show any,” Ianto explained, chagrined at his oversight. “I didn’t think to check medicines. That’s Owen’s…” his voice trailed off. 

Jack softened at the memory of their fallen medical officer and sighed putting a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “That’s okay, no harm done I guess.” He dropped his hand and turned to the Doctor “Is there anything you can’t have that you would like to tell us about?” 

“Well pears, definitely can’t have any pears. They’re quite deadly. Shouldn’t even have anything that’s ever been touched by a pear.” 

“Avoiding possible arguments?” asked Jack with a smile. 

“Well, yes,” admitted the Doctor. “But, if you could get that in my file I would be most grateful.” 

“I’ll get right on that sir,” said Ianto.” Would you like me to remove any reference to aspirin while I am at it?” 

The Doctor rubbed his jaw as he considered the question. “Yes, go ahead, please. It does seem to work better than I remembered. I always wondered why no one ever offered me anything for a headache. Now I know.” He looked down at the cup lying sideways on the saucer. The small spot of tea spilled on the floor. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“That’s alright, happens all the time,” assured Ianto as he deftly used a handkerchief to mop up the spill before taking cup and saucer from the Doctor. “Do you require anything else?”   
“No, no, thank you, I’m fine.” 

With Ianto gone the Doctor decided it was time to ask Jack a few questions. “So what was the holdup at MI5?” 

“Oh, nothing really, they just wanted me to cool my heels a little waiting for them. A stupid power play. I ended up calling the PM. He told them I had better things to do than decorate their waiting area.” 

“That’s it? Nothing more? That seems like an enormous waste.” 

Jack smiled. “That’s what the PM said. So I got a bit of compensation. They turned over all their files on the Atterian to me and I got permission to pick her up with no interference from MI5.” 

“What about UNIT?” the Doctor queried. 

“No problem at all,” Jack boasted. “Ianto knew I would want to talk to her and arranged clearance from them while I was gone. So everything is in place. We just have to locate her and pick her up quietly. Unless you have any objections?” 

“No, I must confess I am curious as to what she is up to. That tracking device was simply that, tracking, nothing more. Can I be there when you question her?” 

“Of course, but you don’t mind if we do the pickup by ourselves. I think it will work best if she sees you as a friendly face.” 

“That would be fine, I was in the middle of working on something anyway. When do you think you will bring her in?” 

“Once Gwen gets back, we'll go and get her. Good thing Gwen showed up today, even with aliens it looks better to the public if you have a female with you on pickups like this.” 

As if on cue Gwen returned with a bag filled with oranges, grapefruit, satsumas and lemons. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked as showed the Doctor the contents of the bag. 

“Yes, more than adequate, thank you,” he said as he pulled out a largish orange. “I’ll get back to my work now. I think Jack wants you to go out on a pick up with him.” 

“You do?” Gwen asked looking at Jack. “You didn’t even know I would be here today.” 

“True,” said Jack. “But as long as you are here, you might as well help. We just need to get a fix on our target.” 

“We already have one,” said Ianto as he took the bag of fruit from Gwen. “In fact she's right outside, about twenty feet from our door. It looks like she's waiting for us.”


	8. Chapter 8

The Doctor stood staring at the energy extractor lying on the floor next to the fallen table. It didn’t look like it had sustained any damage. He had completely forgotten about it during his mishap and that was strange. He would have thought it would have been foremost in his mind, not tea and sandwiches. But then nothing involving this bit of Gallifrey seemed right. 

Squatting down, he took a closer look at it, gently turning it upright. To his relief there were no sounds of loose parts rolling around inside. He cradled it gently in one arm while he used the other to manhandle the table back into an upright position. 

He had some time before he confronted the Atterian. Jack had decided to wait a bit and see if it was just a coincidence that she was just out the front door or if she was indeed waiting for them as Ianto presumed. Whichever it was, it didn’t matter to him, but it had definitely unnerved Jack to see his quarry apparently so willing to be caught.

Gingerly he placed the device on the table. He felt a slight pang at his temple but he ignored it. “Aspirin must be wearing off,” he thought with an almost perverse pride in the apparent fact that human medicines had so little effect on him. He pulled his orange from his pocket while he considered what to do.

It was a very good orange, the skin separated easily from the flesh, the sections inside were plump and juicy. He bit into one enjoying the sensation of the thin skinned vesicles inside bursting as his teeth broke them, releasing their flavorful fluid. It was exactly what he needed, a good shot of vitamin C and the wonderful citrus scent that went with it. A sure way to lighten his mood. It didn’t get rid of the headache but it did make it easier to endure. He nibbled on a bit of the peel, enjoying the intensified scent of orange as he chewed it, the sharp, almost sting of its flavor as the oil in the rind was released. 

When he finished the orange he felt clear of mind and ready to deal with the energy extractor. Carefully, he removed the damaged part. Examining it, he recognized it. It was a frangilizer, a very common part if one was on Gallifrey, but almost impossible to find on Earth. It looked like it might not have been connected correctly or perhaps the energy conduits in the device itself were faulty. He put it in his pocket and proceeded to poke around to see if he could determine why it had failed.

He found it hard to concentrate on what he was doing. Thinking he saw a loose connection, he started tracing it only to get confused as to which energy conduit he was following. He tried to find the original fault only to discover it was no longer there. In his frustration he slammed his hand on the table. Suddenly the device fired up and a display panel revealed itself. He blinked in surprise at what he saw. 

The display was unusual for a Time Lord device, not the usual nested geometric symbols whose meaning could only be understood by those who could sense the flow of time. Instead it was designed to be read by non Gallifreyans, using a symbology that could easily be understood by almost any race. There was also he could sense, a primitive translation capability that would fill in any gaps in the viewer’s native language. This made the device all the more dangerous. Anyone with medical knowledge and an understanding of energy flows could operate it. He heard approaching footsteps and quickly turned it off.

“Well, she’s here. You said you wanted to be involved in the interrogation,” said Jack as he entered the room, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, absolutely,” replied the Doctor as he pocketed his sonic screwdriver and stood up. “Any clues so far as to why she is interested in me?”

“No, but she most definitely is. Claims you are the only one who would understand. Apparently the rest of us are just too dense in her mind,” said Jack as he ushered the Doctor out of the storeroom.

 

Upon entering the hub the Doctor was shocked by what he saw. Myfawny was standing in front of the Atterian, eyes half closed, wings semi furled, almost purring in contentment as the alien administered a neck rub. The Doctor stood stock still hoping to avoid attracting the pteranodon’s attention. It didn’t work, Myfawny turned to him and screamed. 

The Atterian stroked the pteranodon and spoke to it soothingly, calming it down before sending it on its way to the upper reaches. She then turned to the Doctor and smiled. “It’s okay, she’ll stay out of the way now. I’m Celeste by the way – we need to talk.”

“Really?” said the Doctor as he carefully made his way over to Celeste, checking the upper reaches to make sure for himself that Myfawny was indeed staying away. “What could you possibly want to talk to me about?”

“You’re a Time Lord aren’t you? You’re a data point that is missing in our research.”

“I’m a what?” asked the Doctor.

“A Time Lord. You are one, aren’t you? My sensors showed you had all the earmarks of one and the ship you arrived in was definitely Time Lord technology. I’m correct, aren’t I? It would be really embarrassing if I spent all this time waiting for you to arrive only to be wrong. My research advisor would be most upset with me. Though if you are something new, that could also be good,” she temporized, trying to make the best of the situation.

“No, I am a Time Lord. I meant what’s this about me being a data point?”

“Oh, well, you have to understand. I’m trying to get certified and I need to do research to get it. It’s a very important project for our species. We’re collecting information on the reproductive habits of various species and no one in the project has ever done a data collection on a Time Lord.” 

The Doctor pointedly ignored Jack’s laughter as he continued to press for clarification. “So you are just collecting data on reproductive habits? You’re like a Kinsey?”

“A Kinsey?” the Atterian and Jack asked almost simultaneously, the Atterian confused, Jack barely able to contain his mirth. At least Gwen and Ianto were having the good graces to remain silently in the background. 

“Yes, a Kinsey,” responded the Doctor rapidly waving his hand in a circle as he fought for the right words to clarify what he meant. “Sexual researchers… back in the last century. They went from door to door asking people about their sexual practices. You’re like that?”

Celeste brightened at the Doctor’s explanation. “Oh good, so you are familiar with the idea, though we don’t just ask questions, we prefer to actually experience it. You can get far more data recorded that way and, well, we have found subjects do tend to false report in these areas. Actual experience is so much better. It makes it easier for our species to adopt it.” 

“Adopt it?” 

“Yes, that’s why this research is so important. Our species was in trouble. Reproduction was just so boring and dull no one wanted to do it.” She gave Jack a sharp glance as he made a choking sound. “We were in danger of dying out. Then we discovered other species actually enjoy it and with our shape shifting capabilities we could too. 

“All the centers of learning tried to get government sponsorship for the research but mine won,” she declared proudly. “We’ve been doing it for several years now, and hope the sponsorship will continue for several more.” Again she shot a look at Jack, who was now doubled over in laughter. 

The Doctor looked at Jack in disdain as he responded to Celeste. “Oh… I think it will continue on for quite a while. You have no fears on that,” he assured her.

“Oh,” she looked at him in surprise as comprehension spread across her face. “You would know, wouldn’t you? That is wonderful news. That means when I get my certification I should be able to continue my research. So you’ll help me out?”

“Yes Doctor, are you going to help the nice research assistant out?” Jack asked, finally able to get control of himself. “It is for science after all. You could possibly be responsible for the salvation of her species.”

The Doctor looked sternly at Jack, but it had no effect on the captain's jovial mood. He turned his attention to Celeste who was looking up at him hopefully. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. We don’t reproduce that way, not anymore.”

“Yes, I know about the looms and the infertility curse, but surely you still must have done something before then. You must have relations of some kind with other Time Lords. I saw you when you landed. You seemed tactile and affectionate with your ship. Surely you must be the same with your own species,” offered the upset and eager Atterian. 

“But that is it. It needs to be another Time Lord and even then…”

“But I can be a Time Lord,” Celeste interrupted “I’ve studied all the records, all the readings, not everything was lost and I’ve spent my time here waiting for you, practicing see?” Celeste sat down, closed her eyes and started to go limp. 

The Doctor, mesmerized, watched her carefully, intrigued at the subtle changes going on. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and approached him slowly, seductively. “See, two hearts,” she whispered, as she took his hand and placed it under her shirt on the right side of her chest, just above the breast. Holding it there gently, she moved her finger tips moving in a soft circular motion on the back of it. She leaned into him till the distance between them was no more than the thickness of a single sheet of paper. “I’m like you in other ways now too. Can you tell?” 

And tell he could. It was heady stuff, Time Lord pheromones and Celeste was exuding them way beyond the normal levels. If he had been an ancient Gallifreyan he would have been helpless, unable to resist, driven by the animalistic urges that had ruled his race in times long forgotten. As it was her scent, the feel of her cool skin and the beating of her right heart under his palm caused him to feel dizzy and breathless. Thirsty for that which he had not had in so very long a time and had thought to never have again. A light sweat broke out on his skin as the remembered joys and wonders he had buried in the deepest recesses of his mind came to the fore. 

Instinctively, he reached out to see if that one essential part, so necessary for what she wanted, was there. Disappointment and relief both crashed over him when he discovered that it was not. Slowly he regained his composure as the rush of excitement drained from him. Leaving him dazed but in control. Gently he took his hand from her chest letting her hand fall from his as he stepped back from temptation. 

Smiling down on her sadly he said, “Sorry, it wouldn’t work.” 

Celeste’s face fell and she looked up at him in desperation. “But I’m a Time Lord in every way. You reacted. I saw it. I felt it. I’ve waited all this time, just for you. It’s for research, you’re a scientist, surely you understand?”

The Doctor looked around the room and realized he had a situation developing that had to be handled before he finished dealing with the Atterian. Jack had very clearly been affected by the pheromones in the room. Ianto was affected also, but even more so he was affected by Jack’s building lust for the Atterian. Thankfully Gwen was keeping it together. He turned back to the Atterian. 

“Look, you need to turn off the pheromones if you can, before you end up with data collections you didn’t intend.”

Celeste quickly glanced at Ianto, then Jack, her eyes going wide. “Oh, no, I don’t want to do that. Both of them have had their data collected several times,” she whispered to the Doctor. 

The Doctor sensed the pheromone production decreasing and enlisted Gwen’s help. “Can you turn on some blower systems and get us a clean exchange of air?” Jack started walking towards Celeste, a friendly but leering smile on his face. The Doctor grabbed him by the elbow. 

“Steady on there, Captain. Gwen, fetch me one of those lemons.” 

“Sure,” answered Gwen looking up from the HVAC control panel, “but why?”

“I’ll get it sir,” Ianto offered, pulling himself out of his own stupor to help Jack. He returned with the fruit.

“Good, now peel off a section of the rind, hold it under his nose and give it a squeeze so he gets a good doze of lemon oil up his nose,” the Doctor instructed.

Ianto did as he was told and the results were instantaneous. 

“Hey, what was that for?” protested Jack. 

“Welcome back Captain. You were about to give a demonstration, I for one, really didn’t want to see.” 

“Well you could have just turned your back. What was that with the lemon? I never knew it could do that. “

“Well, I wasn’t sure it would work with you. But it does cancel the Time Lord pheromones quite effectively,” explained the Doctor matter of factly, He took the lemon from Ianto’s hand and peeled a bit of rind for himself, enjoying Jack’s expression of disgust as he bit into it. The rush of flavor cleared his head, preparing him to talk to the Atterian, who was still looking at him hopefully.

“Look, I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done that here,” she apologized. “But I had to show you. We can wait till tonight. I’m in the suite next to yours. Once Nigel is asleep, I can slip over.”

“No, it’s not the location, though if everything else was fine, the location would certainly be an issue. You’re not really a Time Lord, that's the problem.” He scanned the room looking for a place they could discuss this rationally. “Jack, can we borrow your office?”

“Only if I’m in there with you,” came Jack’s insistent reply. 

“What? Why?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her. Not after what I saw and felt. We’ve had experience with this kind of thing before, you need someone with you.”

“Oh, so ‘you’ are going to chaperone ‘me’?” asked the Doctor in disbelief. 

“It’s that or I chuck her into a holding cell and you can talk over the intercom.”

The Doctor looked down and considered his options. A quick glance at Ianto and Gwen told him they were very interested in the outcome of this power struggle between him and Jack. Reluctantly he decided to yield. Jack would still have to command Torchwood after he left and he would be a poor friend if he undermined Jack’s authority. 

“Sure, fine, but here.” The Doctor tossed him the partially peeled lemon. “Keep that handy.”

Settled in the office, seated behind the desk, the Atterian across from him and Jack leaning on the door jam, working on peeling the lemon, the Doctor was finally ready to begin his explanation in earnest. 

“Look, I really can’t help you other than give you some details you apparently are unaware of,” began the Doctor only to be interrupted by Jack he has tried biting on a piece of lemon peel.

“Yuck,” he exclaimed with a grimace, “how can you stand that?”

“Captain, if you don’t mind, we are trying to have a serious conversation here,” said the Doctor, irritation showing on his face and in his voice.

“Oh, right, yeah, don’t mind me. Just a fly on the wall here.”

The Doctor refrained from commenting and continued his explanation to the Atterian. “It takes more than physical contact with us. There has to be a mental connection or ultimately nothing happens and it becomes a rather unpleasant, distasteful experience,” he explained with regret. “As good as you are with the physical aspects, you don’t have the ability to complete the mental connection.” 

“But I do,” protested the Atterian. “I’m a sixteen on the Ratoff scale. That’s the highest we’ve ever recorded.”

“I’m sure that is quite impressive for an Atterian, but even the weakest Time Lord would have been well in the thousands on the same scale. The act you want requires a full, complete merging of the minds.” 

“But I can handle it, it’s worth the risk for the project. This mental connection thing could help us keep our interest up and it would be a magnificent addition to the database.”

 _“Oh, the impetuous nature of youth,”_ thought the Doctor. He took a deep breath before playing his trump card.

“It’s really not worth the risk and your race could never adopt it. You don’t understand the mental power at the moment of culmination and no Time Lord has ever been able to hold it back at that time. At best you would be a mindless husk, alive with no thought, no feeling, but more likely it would kill you, rip you apart mentally and you would die in unspeakable agony.

"Even with Time Lords this became a problem. Comas lasting days after the act became normal. Often death would follow. Once the death rate started exceeding the conception rate, the High Council took action and created the looms and the fable of the infertility curse to explain them, hiding our weakness from what they considered to be the lesser races.

“This information has been kept hidden for many millennia. It should satisfy your research center as important enough to get you your certification.” He held up his hand to stop her protest. “It’s going to have to do, because no matter how important you think your research is, it’s not that important and I refuse to be a party to your destruction.”

Celeste looked down at the floor, fighting back her disappointment and tears. The Doctor felt sorry for her and almost wished she could help. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to go then. I’ll have to figure out how to break the news to Nigel. He’s been such a dear.”

“Yes, why the ambassador? Why did you pick him as the one to stick with?” asked Jack.

“He’s traveled a lot. Been to all kinds of countries. Claimed to know the sexual habits of hundreds of cultures. All variations on the same theme it turns out, but he has been sweet to me and very amusing.” She explained. “Well, I should get going.” 

The Doctor stood up and got out from behind the desk as she rose from her chair. “I hope your next research project is more successful,” he said graciously, finally able to relax around her, “but, watch out playing around with pheromones, they can get you in trouble if you aren’t careful.”

“But you secrete them,” she protested.

“That’s just an after effect from what you did. It will go away soon.”

“No, it won’t. You’re always doing it. Even in the restaurant this morning. It’s why I thought you would agree without the normal work up.”

Putting his hand over his eyes the Doctor slowly shook his head in disbelief. But a quick assessment showed she was right. No wonder he had been having so many problems along those lines with this regeneration. His biology was trying to help him find a mate, to start the Time Lord race anew. An exercise in futility more than fertility as it turned out.

He dropped his hand away, took a deep breath and faced her. “Thank you for pointing that out. I wasn’t aware of it. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“No that’s it.” She stepped forward, gazed up at him and tenderly cupped his cheek in her hand. “Such a shame though. You could use some happiness, you are so sad, there is a shadow on your soul.” 

At her last words the Doctor felt a sudden surge of blind rage that disappeared as suddenly as it began. The Atterian dropped her hand from his face, recognition and naked fear showing in her eyes. She quickly covered it, bending down as she gathered up her purse and coat. 

“Well I do need to get going – Nigel has such plans for tonight.” She straightened and turned to Jack. “So, if I can go now?”

Jack looked to the Doctor who nodded, confused by his sudden anger and her reaction to it, but knowing he wanted her and the confusion she brought him, gone. 

“Fine you can go – just one question first,” replied Jack.

“Yes,” said the Atterian as she edged to the exit. 

“Any chance I can have copies of the data you collected on me?” he asked a hopeful and sly grin on his face as he escorted her.

“No, it skews the results if the test subject knows the types of data we collect.”

“Can’t fault a guy for trying. I’m sure I had top scores though.”

“They were adequate,” she replied. “Look, I really have to get going now.”

“Okay, okay,” said Jack opened the door for her. She quickly hurried out of it and was gone. 

“Well, that was quite a performance,” Jack said to the Doctor, who had followed him to the exit.

“Yes, she was quite accomplished. “

“Not her, you. Don’t con a con man Doctor, you were lying through your teeth there.”

The Doctor was stunned, though he should have known Jack would see through him. “Enough of it was true, the best lies have their roots in the truth. I said what I had to so I wouldn’t be pursued by armies of sex researchers for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t see any problem with that. In fact I would consider it to be quite a lot of fun,” Jack laughed. 

“You might, but I don’t. There are consequences, and they are consequences I don’t want to be responsible for,” responded the Doctor, irritated by Jack’s cavalier attitude and teasing. “Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to go for a walk and clear my head.”

Sure, let me get coat and I’ll go with you.” 

“Why? Am I your prisoner? I want to go alone.”

“You’re not a prisoner, you’re a guest. It’s just for your safety,” assured Jack. 

“I’ve been a ‘guest’ of governments before. I know perfectly well what the euphemism means. If all you care about is my safety I’m sure you can use the CCTV feeds to keep track of me. I promise to stay in view of them. Now if you will get out of my way I want to clear my head of all of this.”

Jack held up his hands and stepped away from the entrance. “Fine, go, but you are a guest here and not in the governmental sense.”

The Doctor left Torchwood, relief washing over him as the door closed behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned back against it, suddenly feeling completely drained, as if he had just barely managed to escape with his life. He wondered what he was coming to, nothing seemed right any more. He pressed his hands against the cold metal of the door, pushing himself upright. He swayed slightly but managed to keep his balance. He considered going to the TARDIS, but at the mere thought of her, he felt her violently push him away. 

Rejected again, he put his hands in his pockets and walked along the quay. The cold wind tore at his thin suit as he searched for a place to shake the dark mood that was descending on him.


	9. Chapter 9

The Doctor sat on a stone bench overlooking the bay, aware of the CCTV camera now focused on him.  He had hoped the walk would lighten his mood, but the cold wind, the gray sky and the annoying sound of the camera servos as they tracked him only added to his miserable state.  He had first considered going to Techniquest, watching children discover science would normally have cheered him up, but the recent reminder that his species would never have children again had soured him on the idea.

Instead he had searched for a place he could be alone, away from pesky humans and curious shape shifters, walking along the waterfront until he found the bench he currently occupied.  He hunched against the bitter wind, uncomfortable as the thin fabric of his clothes proved inadequate to prevent the cold from penetrating his body. Going back for his coat was not an option, not after the way he'd left.  

But more than the elements, it was the recent encounter with the Atterian that disturbed him. His entire race, a beautiful and terrible civilization gone and the only scholarly interest in it, was that. Not its history, its tremendous responsibility in ensuring the laws of time remained immutable, or even the wondrous planet it had sprung from.  No, it was reproductive habits that they were interested in.  

He sat on that bench, staring down at the ground, wondering what was going to become of him. He made so many mistakes.  His victories were often in spite of his planning, not because of it. It was luck that, more often than not, was the real reason for his success.  But luck had a way of running out and right now things definitely didn’t look good for him.  

It wasn’t even a spectacular failure of luck.  No planets blowing up, or constellations being reconfigured, it was almost humiliatingly mundane. Thrown out of the TARDIS, dumped on Torchwood’s doorstep, finding himself in the middle of a love triangle he never participated in.   He was actually working for Torchwood. He shook his head as he thought of that and wondered if Jack was going to give a pay check and if that meant he was going to have to get a bank account to deposit it in. 

He took a deep breath and looked out across the bay.   _“It isn’t as bad as all that, is it?”_ he thought. It had only been a day since he had landed on his backside in Roald Dahl Plass. Too early to think he was going to spend the rest of his life stuck on Earth. Then he realized he wasn’t stuck here on Earth even if the TARDIS didn’t let him back in.   

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out Jack’s Vortex Manipulator.  He examined the worn leather strap and puzzled at the human affinity for such an archaic material. Lifting the flap, he studied the controls.  There was evidence of Jack’s attempts to fix the teleport and time travel functions, but he had been far from successful, which was good.  It was one thing to have time agents running around when the Time Lords controlled things, but now with only himself remaining, it was a responsibility he couldn’t and to be honest, didn’t want to take on. 

Well, if the TARDIS wasn’t going to let him back in, he could just fix the manipulator and leave. Easy enough to do, it wasn’t traveling in style, but it was traveling and not bound to just one world or time.  Knowing he had it as a backup lightened his mood.  Yes, he would just hang on to it for a bit, just in case he needed it. Jack hadn’t asked for it back yet, maybe he would forget.

As that thought cheered him, his headache came back in full force with a severity that caused him to gasp and drop Jack’s device on the pavement as his hand went to his head.  He closed his eyes tightly against the fading light of the setting sun that, feeble though it was, stabbed at his brain.  The cold was forgotten as he rocked himself against the pain, his hand was on his forehead, futilely rubbing at it as he tried to gain some relief. His mouth was open, his breath came in sharp ragged gasps, a harsh sound that matched the gritty sand paper feel in his throat as the hard won air moved through it.

He leaned forward, shifting position, desperately trying a new tactic to fight off the excruciating pain. With a hand on each side of his head, he started rubbing his temples hard, forcefully, trying to induce pain there, drawing his attention away from the throbbing in his head.  Slowly it started to work and he managed to regain control. The pain was still there, but he could isolate it, ignore it. Well, almost ignore it.  It was sapping his strength to deal with it this way, but he had no other choice. 

His breathing became slow and regular as his body, that had tensed against the onslaught, gradually relaxed. For a moment he was grateful that no one from Torchwood had seen his spell. There was already too much interfering concern from that quarter. But then he remembered the CCTV camera trained on him and felt that familiar, disturbing fixed point in time and space approaching.  He straightened up and put on his best grin as he twisted around to face the captain. 

“Hello, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me, let me guess. My break’s exceeded the union rules and you’ve come here to fetch me back,” quipped the Doctor. 

“Hardly,” replied Jack as he approached the bench. “You’re welcome to take as long as you want. There’s a storm front coming through and I thought you might want your coat.”  

The Doctor frowned briefly as he noticed the coat over Jack’s arm.  The explanation did make sense, he couldn’t fault the reasoning.  Though he knew it was a lie. But what was really irritating was an unmistakable odor coming from Jack that made it apparent the captain had relieved any tensions the Atterian may have aroused. _“At least he could have washed up afterwards,”_ thought the Doctor. 

However, once Jack was next to him it was apparent he had showered with his hair was still damp and he smelled of soap. His clothes were fresh. No, it wasn’t Jack’s fault the he had picked up on the captain’s most recent activities. Apparently his senses had been heightened in that area as a result of his encounter with the Atterian.  An enhancement he didn’t appreciate. 

Not trusting himself to stand at the moment he remained seated as Jack handed him the coat and laid it down on the bench. “Thank-you, it is getting a bit chilly, I’ll probably need this soon. A storm front coming in, you say? Thought I detected something in the air.”

“I thought you were going to look after this for me,” accused Jack as he bent over to pick up the forgotten Vortex Manipulator off the ground. 

“Oh sorry, must have fallen out of my pocket. Seems to be happening more and more these days.  I should get them checked out,” explained the Doctor keeping a lightness in his voice he didn’t feel. “Here, I’ll make sure no damage was done,” he offered as he held out his hand.

“No, I think I’ll just keep it on me from now on,” replied Jack, looking down as he buckled the strap of the device around his wrist.  The Doctor watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw his escape route taken from him.  No matter what Jack said, he felt like a prisoner here.  He just wasn’t sure whose prisoner.

“Hey, come on. I didn’t mean it like that,” said Jack upon seeing the Doctor’s expression. He sat down next to him and clapped him on his shoulder.  The Doctor suppressed a flinch as the contact interfered with the suppression of the headache. “I need it to help me keep track of things around here.  Thank you for keeping those functions intact by the way.  If you want, you can give it a tune up back at the hub. Maybe give me some limited travel abilities?” he added hopefully. 

The Doctor gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head.  “No, I think not. With you, limited travel would soon become unlimited. After all twenty trips of five years each is the same a single hundred year trip.  But I will give the rest of the functions a buff up if you want.  I do seem to be in your employ after all.”

“Hardly in my employ,” said Jack. “Thank you by the way for not undermining my authority.”

“Pardon,” said the Doctor, feigning confusion. 

“Never mind. Sorry about this afternoon. I know that wasn’t...” 

“What,” interrupted the Doctor, “the Atterian? She was just an over eager grad student, that's all. No real problem.  Now she can tell her research center just how dangerous it is to collect data from a Time Lord and I can be left in peace.  I always thought the Time Lord High Council was a bit daft maintaining that whole loom myth. But now I think they had the right idea.”

“Loom myth?” asked Jack.  “But they were real, there were all those stories. Reliable sources saw them, brought back images.”

 

"A hoax, a very elaborate and effective hoax. All of the houses were required to have a least a mock up of one. Periodically chroniclers from other races were invited to Gallifrey and shown the looms. Children were hidden away as the chroniclers were told the tragic tale of the infertility curse laid upon us back during the time of Rassilon. That the looms were now the only way Time Lords could reproduce, our DNA woven to create a new adult Time Lords. Once they were well and truly convinced, they were sent on their way to tell the tale of the tragic noble society that ruled over time itself."

“But, why go through all of that?”

“So what they considered lesser races wouldn’t speculate and produce a bunch of nonsense about how we reproduced.  They felt that was undignified to have stories of that nature be told about them.”

“So it was all just a public relations stunt?”

“That’s a crude way of putting it, but yes,” the Doctor agreed. 

“What you said about a mental connection, was that just public relations?”

The Doctor frowned as he thought about how to answer, not pleased with the turn the conversation had taken. He was forming his answer when Jack spoke again.

“It’s just Mickey was sure you and Madame de Pompadour had, uh...” Jack gave up with chagrined smile and shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor decided he might as well tell Jack the truth and get it over with, once and for all. “She was a telepath, a very powerful, untrained telepath.” 

“Really,” replied Jack, sounding dubious. “I researched her after what Mickey said. There’s no hint of that in any of the histories.”

The Doctor rubbed his chin. “Not even she realized it until I read her mind. When I did that she realized what she could do and used the connection to just walk into my mind, past all my defenses.” 

He remembered that moment, the realization of what had happened. The shock and wonder that had filled him.  How she could reestablish that connection by merely holding his hand. It was a oneness, a completeness with her that was incredible. She welcomed his presence in her mind, drawing him in, letting him see everything that was there without guile or embarrassment.  

And she saw all of him, the good, the bad, the shame, the guilt, the deepest darkest secrets that he kept hidden, even from himself and she accepted it all, cherished it all, forgiving him nothing for she saw nothing to forgive.  

It was a complete merging of their psyches, totally aware of each other and in those moments, those precious moments, what one knew, the other knew, an experience far more powerful than any mere physical sensation could produce. One he had deeply missed and had never thought to feel again.  Once it had occurred, it left him helpless to resist, unable to deny her the physical joining she had craved. 

He realized that Jack was staring at him and pulled himself out of his ruminations with a shake. 

“Sorry,” he said, slightly embarrassed at where his mind had taken him.  “She never should have been able to do that. I don’t know why she could. Maybe all the scans the clockwork droids did while she was growing up changed something in her brain as it developed.

“She had no idea there was anything different about her, before I joined minds with her, she just thought she was perceptive.  After that, she kept her talent hidden. A perceptive and insightful courtesan is to be honored, respected. A telepath in any court…”

“Yeah, would be a target for assassination,” Jack finished for him. “Good thing she kept it secret, otherwise she could have had a very short life.”  

“Yes, but I am afraid being with me…” The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Part of what I told the Atterian was true, we really can’t hold back at that time and I fear I damaged her.  She seemed fine at first, but she was sickly after that. By the time she was twenty eight she was a courtesan in name only, for health reasons, at forty two she succumbed to tuberculosis.  A healthy adult of her age and class should have been able to throw it off in the primary stage, but instead it killed her.  If not for me she may have lived much longer. It’s one of those consequences I told you about. I should’ve had better control.” 

“Hey, you have far more control than I would have,” said Jack. The Doctor stared at him nonplussed.  “Sorry that was lame,” Jack apologized. 

“Very,” the Doctor said dryly. 

“So, that’s it? Since the time war? Nothing else, not even Rose?” asked Jack.   

The Doctor stared at him. Shocked at the question. How could Jack ever think he would risk Rose like that, for that?  What did he think he was, some kind of animal? Just driven by urges with no thought to the welfare of others? He fought to control himself as he bit back the scathing responses that came to his mind.  It was Jack after all and he was just being true to his nature, a nature that only this afternoon he had tried to explain to Ianto.  

He grabbed his coat and stood up quickly. Despite the current emotional strain, he was feeling better, the headache almost gone and he could tell the storm was almost upon them.

“You know, I didn’t have much for lunch.  Any chance we can go for an early supper?” he asked.  “I’m absolutely famished.” He wasn’t hungry, but Jack’s tendency to want to feed him provided an excellent opportunity to change the subject.

“Sure, no problem, do you want to go back to the hotel restaurant?” asked Jack as he got up off the bench. 

The Doctor considered briefly. That wouldn’t do, too great a chance he would run into the Atterian there.  He thought for a second and realized exactly the right place to experience the approaching storm.  “No, I still have some things I want to check out in that storeroom of yours afterwards. It’s far too early to call it a day. How about that restaurant on the pier, the one with glass walls all around.  Last time I was there, I really didn’t get to enjoy it.  Too busy stopping Blon from trying to kill me.” The Doctor was speaking rapidly, animated, full of energy, determined to show Jack he was in control, back to his old self. 

“Blon?” asked Jack, confused by the sudden change in topic and the Doctor’s mood. 

“Yes Blon, you remember, Slitheen, mayor of Cardiff. Come on Jack, I expected you to be a bit quicker on the uptake. How could you forget Blon? That rift you have to deal with was cracked open wide because of her.  Why it’s like… it’s like… a physicist not knowing who Newton is.”

“Right, Blon. Of course I know who she is,” replied Jack nodding his head slowly.  “You didn’t tell me she tried to kill you.”

“Well, not much to tell really. She was quite ineffective in her attempts, but it did distract from the food and the ambiance of the restaurant, if I do say so myself and I have. So, shall we go?” The Doctor didn’t wait for a response but instead strode off in the direction of the restaurant, leaving Jack flat footed and hurrying to catch up with him. 


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor was idly moving his food around on his plate with his fork. He had planned on just having some soup and maybe a salad, but Jack had had other ideas and had ordered for him, insisting he tried some of the restaurant’s specialties. The hummus appetizer had been excellent, smooth texture, the slight acid taste of lemon, balanced by a nutty flavor of a fine olive oil. The pita bread had been soft, but not doughy, a perfect back drop to the hummus it held. 

It should have been a fantastic experience and indeed it had been, until he swallowed and his stomach knotted itself against the food, resulting in him feeling as if he had consumed a rock, one with extremely sharp points. The feeling was so intense for a few brief moments he feared he had been poisoned. But a quick glance at Jack, who was eating it with no ill effects eased his mind enough that he was able to assess the situation clinically. He closed his eyes and concentrated, pretending to be savoring his food. His stomach was tense, not producing any digestive juices and there was no peristaltic action to move the food along. This was going to be a very difficult and painful meal to get through. 

He chose to disguise his discomfort by chattering away about the storm, whose fury was visible from inside the glass walled restaurant. He talked about the last time he had eaten there, the various ways Blon had tried to kill him and how laughably ineffective they all were. He talked about anything that came to his mind, so long as he kept his mouth occupied with words and not food. All the time holding a piece of pita in his hand, gesturing with it as he talked, using it to point out features of the storm, where the table where he and Blon had sat, waving it all around as he used it to illustrate whatever he was talking about, but never letting it near his mouth. Unable to get a word in, Jack had eaten the rest of the appetizer on his own. 

But now the main course was in front of him and it was apparent he hadn’t eaten a single bite of his shish kebab and had only made a token effort with the rice pilaf, while Jack was almost finished with his. Even with his tea the Doctor had only managed a sip or two. 

“I thought you said you were hungry?” Jack asked. “Don’t you like the food?” 

The Doctor took a deep breath as he considered his response. Blaming the food would be easy, but a quick glance at the hovering waiter told him his dish would be swept away and he would be fussed over until they found something he did like. “The food's fine. I just lost my appetite that’s all, probably the company,” he said with a smile. 

“You had no problem with the company this morning,” replied Jack, playing along, to the Doctor’s relief. 

“Yes, well, you might have a point, except you were hardly at the table if you remember.” 

Jack suddenly became serious. “Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look well.” 

“I’m fine, stomach's just a bit off. It’s really nothing. It will straighten itself out shortly. Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

The Doctor pushed back from the table, his chair sliding along the floor with a screech as he did so. He quickly made his way to the restroom. He gave a worried glance over his shoulder, making sure the captain wasn’t following him before entering. To his relief the facility was unoccupied. He promptly entered a stall and emptied the contents of his stomach. It was a voluntary not an involuntary action, though still a rather unpleasant experience that caused him to screw his face up in disgust. He quickly went to the sink where he cupped his hand under the tap using the cold water to rinse the horrid aftertaste from his mouth. 

Water however, proved ineffective to totally remove the aftereffects of the emesis, so he reached into the left outside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a strong and very effective mouth wash. He took his time with it, moving the solution back and forth in his mouth, feeling it dissolve the unpleasant tasting material that the water had been unable to remove. After he spat it out into the sink, he ran his tongue along his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Nice and clean with no silly after taste like spearmint, that would taint the flavor of anything he ate afterwards. 

He splashed his face with the water and reached into the wicker basket that sat on the counter filled with neatly folded thick clean hand towels. He grabbed one of the cloth towels out the basket and used it to pat his face dry. As he finished, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. It startled him to see the haggard face peering back at him, the sallow complexion, the dull sunken eyes. He sighed, he was in bad shape. If he didn’t want Jack following him around like an over anxious nursemaid, he was going to have to do something. 

Reluctantly he reached deep into his breast pocket and pulled out a small packet of red pills, so bright they almost seemed to be strobing, a warning sign he was about to ignore. They were from Gallifrey and would fix him right up, get his stomach working again and put the color back in his face, but there was, as with all things, a price to pay. When the crash came it would be spectacular, almost narcoleptic in nature. They were also highly addictive, taking two within a single day almost a guarantee of a lifetime dependency. A dependency that had been known to endure past regeneration. The crash should not be a concern. If he had the timing right, he would be fast asleep when that occurred. Maybe for once getting a restful night’s sleep as a result. 

He held a pill in his hand as he considered his options, weighing the pros and cons. One, just one, wouldn’t be a problem. He was taking it for its physical effects, as the medication it was originally meant to be. It’s why he carried them after all, for occasions such as this. If he wasn’t better in the morning he would seek help. It was just to get through this evening, nothing more.

Suddenly, he felt or saw something over his right shoulder at the very edge of his vision. He turned quickly but nothing was there. Just a bit of paranoia on his part he assured himself, probably his subconscious worrying Jack would be coming in to check on him soon. He quickly swallowed the pill and chased it with a handful of water. 

He picked the packet of remaining pills off the counter, wondering if he had made the right decision in taking one. Or had his fear of Jack walking in on him, rushed him into an ill considered action? Too late now to change his mind, he could feel the drug entering his blood stream, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it has he had the appetizer. He looked briefly at the restroom stalls. Flushing the rest of the pills would prevent him from making the wrong choice later. Instead he put them back in his pocket, telling himself he could get rid of them later if he needed to.

Studying his reflection, he saw the effects of the pill were already taking place. He looked much better. His color was back, his eyes were clear and bright. He smiled at his image, brilliant! A quick finger comb of his hair and he was perfect, ready to face Jack and the rest of the dinner, if not the world. He patted the pocket where the pills were, glad he had decided to keep them. How could anything that made him feel so good be bad? A finger of doubt in the back of his brain warned him that kind of reaction was exactly what made them so dangerous. _“Nonsense,”_ he thought. _“I can handle it. I am the Doctor after all.”_

With an exuberant bound he was at the restroom door, opening it with such vigor he almost hit Jack square in the face. Fortunately the captain’s reflexes were such that he jumped back in the nick of time, the door missing him by the slightest of margins.

“Whoa there, you might want to slow down a bit,” exclaimed Jack. “I was just about to check on you, feeling better I gather?” 

“Yes, I am, thank you,” replied the Doctor. “In fact, I would like to get back to dinner, I feel positively ravenous.” His stomach growled in agreement. 

“Ah, that might be a problem,” Jack said sheepishly looking down at the floor as he scratched his head. “I had the waiter take it away.” 

“You what? My dinner? What did you do that for?” asked the Doctor as he bounded over to the table to see his place had been cleared. “Have him bring it back!” 

“It’s too late, it’s already in the bin most likely,” explained Jack as he pulled out the Doctor’s chair for him. “Come on, sit down, we’ll order you something else.” 

“Just order what you did before,” replied the Doctor as he sat down. “There was nothing wrong with it. I told you my stomach would sort itself out soon and it did. I can’t believe you had them throw out my dinner!” 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I had no idea you still intended to eat it,” explained Jack. “What did you do by the way? I’ve never see someone turn around as fast as you have.” 

“What, you working for the Atterians now? I’ve had my personal life poked into quite enough for one day, thank you very much. I just freshened up a bit. Now why don’t you get that waiter to bring me something to eat. You can start with some of that hummus. You ate so much of it I barely got more than a sample.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “You were the one… Oh, never mind.” He looked over at the waiter, who nodded. “It will be coming right up.” 

“Good,” the Doctor put his hand on the pot of tea, “and any chance we can get some hot tea? This appears to have gone a bit cold.” 

Before the Doctor finished the sentence the maitre’d appeared to take cold pot away and replace it with a new one. 

“Well, that’s efficient,” stated the Doctor, pleased with the service. Soon he had his tea, hummus, and pita bread. He made quick work of them, barely taking the time to enjoy the flavor and texture. Jack had a bemused expression on his face as he watched the Doctor wolf down food that he had barely been willing to touch earlier. 

When he finished the appetizer, the Doctor looked at Jack and realized something was on the captain’s mind. “Well, out with it.” 

“Out with what?” asked Jack. 

“Out with whatever it is that’s bothering you. I don’t need you staring at me, waiting for the right moment. The right moment is now, before my entrée comes. So what is it?” 

Jack shook his head. “Nothing, nothing really, it’s just…” 

“Just what?” 

“You’d let me know if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? I have people I am responsible for now. I need to be to be sure they are safe.” 

“What? You think I’m a danger?” asked the Doctor, offended at the suggestion. 

“No, no, not at all. It’s just, you seem different, secretive. I need to make sure there’s nothing going on that could be a danger for Torchwood.” 

“You have my word, everything is quite innocent. The TARDIS is upset with me because I was careless and let her fuel get too low. In fact that is why we had such a rough landing, she was running on fumes as it were. Entirely my fault, she tried to warn me and I ignored her. Nothing you or Torchwood needs to worry about.” 

“And she’s pushing everyone else away, because?” 

“She’s just cranky, doesn’t want anyone getting near her. Most likely she's upset that rift isn’t putting out as much fuel as it used to. She'll settle once she gets close to being topped up,” the Doctor explained with an assurance he didn’t feel. 

“And you?” asked Jack as the Doctor was again served shish kebab by the confused waiter. 

“I’m fine. I just had an upset stomach, nothing more. No need to start an investigation over it.” The Doctor proceeded to apply himself to his food. 

“Alright, you win, just promise me you’ll tell me if you need help.” 

The Doctor swallowed before responding, “Of course I will, why wouldn’t I? Thank you by the way, this food is delicious.” 

 

The food was indeed quite good and the Doctor ate it eagerly, sure that he would be better in the morning. The pill was just providing a needed break from whatever was wrong with him. With two good meals inside him today and a sound night’s rest assured when the pill wore off, he would be ready for anything the next day had to offer. Everything would all work out brilliantly. The TARDIS couldn’t stay angry at him forever. She needed him as much as he needed her. All his worry had been pure foolishness. 

He’d only been partially paying attention to Jack as he ate. Enjoying the food and his good mood too much to want to listen to the day to day bureaucratic problems Jack had to deal with, but then something Jack was saying sparked his interest. 

“So every single truck in Harwood’s car park had to have its solenoid replaced,” Jack was saying. 

“Really? Any idea why?” asked the Doctor. 

“They don’t know how it was done. but they all had been burned from an overvoltage,” Jack replied. 

“An overvoltage, that is odd. So they suspect vandalism then.” 

“Yes, most likely, though very sophisticated vandalism. Not some random gang of teenagers. All the cabs were locked and the bonnet release in on the inside. There was no sign of tampering of the locks on the cabs or the locking mechanism for the bonnets. There wasn’t a mark on any of the lorries. So the local authorities figure it’s some fringe group. Rhys suspects it might be an animal rights group. They just signed a contract with a large meat packing house that has had problems with them in the past.” 

“You don’t sound like you’re convinced,” commented the Doctor between bites of his meal. 

Jack rubbed his chin before answering. “I’m not. The groups that have caused trouble for the packing house always leave a calling card. Letting everyone know why the damage was being done. Here, there was nothing.” 

“They could have been scared off before they had a chance to leave their message. Any other cases of this kind of damage?” asked the Doctor, intrigued by the mystery. 

“No, and the locals have even checked with Interpol. This is an entirely new kind of attack. Harwood’s has taken precautions though and tightened up security in their car parks. It won’t happen to them again at least.” 

“So that’s it then. No further involvement from you or Torchwood?” asked the Doctor. 

“No, the local police can handle it.” 

“Too bad, it could have been interesting,” stated the Doctor as he finished his meal. 

“If they get stuck, I’ll offer your services, how’s that?” 

“Fair enough. Well, shall we be off then? I’m sure you need to get back and I do have a few more things in that store room of yours I want to take a look at.” 

“Let me get the check first.” Jack signaled the waiter, who understood and left to tot up the bill. “Now, about you looking at things in the store room. Could you at least ask me before you destroy something?” 

“Surely you didn’t want that conversion unit to remain functional?” 

“No, no, I didn’t, but I don’t want the only thing to show for your being here be a pile of scrap either. Try to find something that might help us, will you?” 

“Help you what? Jack, you know the dangers of a civilization progressing too fast.” 

“Yes, but…” Jack was interrupted by the waiter returning with the bill. He took the leather folder containing the final total from him, gave it a glance, and promptly returned it to the waiter with enough cash in it to elicit a smile and a little bow from the man before he left. 

“Come on, let's go,” Jack said as he stood up. “We can discuss your job description on the way to the Hub.” 

“No need, I get your meaning,” replied the Doctor, deciding he would just have to be more circumspect in the future when he destroyed something humans weren’t ready for. 

Jack studied the Doctor carefully, “That was too easy, What, no arguments? Are you sure you’re okay? I could take you back to the hotel if you want.” 

“I’m fine, can’t I be cooperative occasionally?” asked the Doctor as he put on his coat. 

“Not from what I’ve observed,” replied Jack. 

“Well I can be,” stated the Doctor and with a flourish he held the door open for Jack, emphasizing his point. 

“Okay, okay,” replied Jack with a laugh. “I believe you.” 

“Good,” said the Doctor, letting the door close behind them. “Now, can you tell me, how did a device from Gallifrey wind up in your store room?”


	11. Chapter 11

“So it was just sitting there at the base of the Tower,” Jack finished explaining as they approached the entrance to the Hub. “I recognized the writing on it, but I have no idea what it was for. I gather you do though?”

“Actually, I’ve never seen anything like it,” replied the Doctor, not sure why he was lying. “I was hoping you could provide a bit more information to go on.” 

“Doesn’t the writing on it tell you anything?”

“No, it’s just where it was made and who made it. It wasn’t anyone I recognized,” said the Doctor as he unlocked the Torchwood entrance with his sonic screwdriver and held the door open for Jack, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” complained Jack. 

“Consider it pay back for breaking into my room this morning.”

“That wasn’t a break in. I had a key,” Jack protested. 

“And so do I,” replied the Doctor, flipping the sonic in the air and catching it with a clatter before putting it back into his jacket pocket. The entrance door closed behind them as they proceeded into the Hub itself. Suddenly the Doctor sprinted across the open area near the base of the water tower, his footsteps ringing on the metal catwalk. He turned and laughed as he watched Myfanwy’s mistimed attack. The predator suddenly changed direction and looked about, confused by its prey not being where she expected. Jack shooed her away and with a scream of protest Myfanwy returned to the upper reaches of the Hub.

“I’m glad you have a sense of humor about this now,” said Jack. 

“Ah, it’s no problem,” responded the Doctor cheerily. “Just a bit of fun. No idea why it bothered me so much before. I’ll get back to work now. I’m sure you have things to do.”

“You sure you are okay?” asked Jack. “You seem a bit…”

“Trust me, I’m perfectly alright. In fact never felt better. Good as new. Don’t worry, if I need anything I’ll let you know.” The Doctor turned his back on, Jack dismissing him, and proceeded down the hallway.

Once he entered the storeroom he saw the energy extractor sitting on the table. The mess of the spilled sandwiches had been cleared up, most likely by Ianto. He doubted that chore had endeared him anymore to the Welshman, but no worries he could always charm his way into Ianto’s good graces in the morning. 

He sat down on the chair next to the table. Smiling, he ran his hand over the exterior housing of the device, feeling the etched Gallifreyan symbols under his finger tips. A memory of home. He owed it to that memory to try and fix it. At least make it ready for the replacement of the broken frangilizer he had taken out earlier. Once the TARDIS let him back in he would just get one out of storage and it would be ready to go. 

Something in the back of his mind screamed at him, _“No, don’t. It’s far too dangerous. It’s better left broken. In the wrong hands it could be devastating.”_ The Doctor pushed the warnings away. His hands were the right hands he was sure, it wouldn’t be any problem getting the device from Jack. There was nothing at all to worry about. He’d been worrying far too much recently. Time he stopped. Everything was going to be great. 

He put on his glasses and started to working on the device, finding it much easier this time. Carefully he traced the circuits and soon found a short. Adjusting his sonic screwdriver to the proper setting he fixed the problem and continued his examination, trying to find the cause of the damage. He traced it back to the containment section. It had apparently at one point tried to swallow more that it could handle. Whatever it had held had broken out and destroyed several circuits and components in the process. 

The Doctor tisked at the containment and disposal section’s lack of proper engineering. From what he could tell no redundancy had been built in. So if a single part failed the whole system failed. Aside from that arrogant ommision, it was a clever design. It would hold the life force energy long enough to determine the best way of extinguishing it. It was that feature that was the most elegant part of the design, something only Time Lords could have made. It would fracture the life force at the quantum level, in all possible dimensions, not just the paltry three, well maybe four, that humans operated in. 

Seeing how the system could be strengthened he decided to do as much of the work as he could toward that goal. He suspected the containment field had failed when the operator had tried to contain a very powerful life force in it, instead of letting the device destroy it. He decided to make sure that didn’t happen again. Anything in the containment field would be destroyed as soon as its life force energy had been pattern analyzed and the means for destruction determined. It did mean, however one would have to be very careful in how they used it. If the wrong life force was extracted there would be no going back. That didn’t worry him however, he would be the only one to ever use it, if indeed it was ever used again. He had no intention of leaving it behind for humans to play with. 

Soon he had accomplished as much of the repair job as was possible until he found the parts he needed. Time to examine the rest of the Torchwood junk pile. The first item he found was a compact and very powerful energy source, suitable for using in a sonic blaster or other portable energy weapon. Well, he had no need of anything like that and he certainly wouldn’t want Jack and his friends using it to power a weapon. So this needed to be rendered totally inoperable. It was quick work for the sonic and soon it was in such a state even he wouldn’t be able to repair it. 

The next device he found was a medical scanner. Unfortunately the civilization that developed it was made up of large single cell beings. They were talented in developing pseudopods that were even more functional than a human hand, but they their physical structure was so different from humanoids, the device was useless here on Earth. It had a large display screen however, and plenty of data storage. The Doctor made a few tweaks and voila! He had an excellent electronic book reader, capable of handling all formats and storing every piece of writing ever created on Earth with space left over for the libraries of Gallifrey. How all that was going to get loaded into the former scanner he decided was someone else’s problem. 

Then he found a small device that looked like a weapon but wasn’t, though it had caused a planetary civilization to fall. It was badly battered but it was possible to repair it. He smiled as he did so, hoping Jack would get the joke. He was just finishing the final touches when the captain walked through the door. 

“Ah, good to see you actually repairing something,” commented Jack as he approached the Doctor. “So what does that thing do anyway?”

“This?” asked the Doctor as he stood up and aimed the device at Jack while pressing a button. 

Jack jumped to one side and yelled as a beam of light came out, “Hey watch it with that thing!”

“It’s harmless,” assured the Doctor as he held up the blaster shaped device. He tapped a display screen set into the top of it. “Seems to be something wrong here.” He gave the screen a final thump. “There we go. There were no Jack Harknesses for sale on Vetterina.”

“What do you mean I’m not for sale?”

“Well, I don’t know about here, but you definably weren’t for sale there,” joked the Doctor. “This is a price scanner, for want of a better term. On Vetterina you could point it at just about anything and see where to buy it and how much it cost. Unfortunately it caused an economic collapse.”

“It what?”

“Caused an economic collapse. With this device you could determine the cheapest source for everything.”

“That’s good. Isn’t it?” asked Jack clearly confused.

“For the consumers yes, but for the businesses it ended up being a disaster. They kept slashing prices to be the lowest source, squeezing out the smaller businesses. But the competition between the larger companies was so fierce the only way to keep customers was to sell for less then it cost to produce and hope your competition shut up shop before you did. People lost jobs as companies lost money. So there was less money to spend, causing prices to fall until in order inventory to be moved, more jobs lost, etc, till it all just spiraled out of control. Planetary economic collapse, all from devices like this.” He gave the scanner a toss in the air and caught it. 

“So why fix it? It’s no good here.”

The Doctor pursed his lips and tilted his head from one side to the other. “Well, for practice mainly and you never know, you might get something from Vetterina falling through the rift here. This did come through after all.”

“Still, it’s not much help for me. I can hardly pop to Vetterina and buy anything,” replied Jack, looking pointedly at his vortex manipulator.

The Doctor ignored the unspoken hint and answered Jack’s question. “Oh, but this holds more than just prices and store locations. Tap this here,” the Doctor touched the lower right corner of the display screen for emphasis, “and up comes the owner’s manual. No more guessing. Well, no more guessing if what you are scanning comes from Vetterina.” 

“Okay, okay,” said Jack with a laugh taking the scanner from the Doctor. “Look I’m about to call it a night. So it’s time for me to drive you back to the hotel.”

“No thanks, I’ll walk. I don’t want to spend five minutes watching you try to get out of a parking space again.”

“That won’t happen. I only park it like that when I think Ianto is driving it next.” 

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and stared at Jack, a half smile on his face as he waited for an explanation.

“It’s just a practical joke we play on each other. Seeing who can make it the hardest for the next person who drives the SUV. Just a game really. I told you it’s been quiet here. It’s something to keep us from being too bored.”

The Doctor shook his head in false dismay. “Things must be slow if that counts as entertainment. Still, I’d rather walk. Fresh air before bed is always good,” stated the Doctor as he headed out the door.

“Okay, suit yourself,” replied Jack as he followed behind.

 

The Doctor strode across the hotel parking lot, heedless of the puddles left by the storm as he splashed through them. He’d gone around the very edge of the Plass to get there. The TARDIS had increased her field of repulsion almost to the Millennium Center. He’d briefly felt sorry for all the tourists who had come to enjoy the Plass and now would be returning home with no memories or photos of it or the famous water tower. He imagined them trying to explain to their friends and family why they hadn’t seen one of Cardiff’s greatest attractions. Hopefully that wouldn’t be the case much longer. 

As he entered the hotel he saw the Atterian with the ambassador by the lifts. He smiled and gave her a wave, waggling his fingers when she looked at him. She cringed and leaned into the ambassador, who put a protective arm around her giving the Doctor a warning stare as they entered the lift. 

Standing in reception, the Doctor was confused and a bit hurt by the response his friendly greeting had received. He knew of no reason why the Atterian should fear him so. He actually had liked her, he just wasn’t willing to have his ‘data’ collected by her, or anyone for that matter. Well, nothing he could do about it tonight. Maybe he would run into her at breakfast tomorrow. He could straighten it out then.

He summoned a lift and went up to his suite. His coat landed with a flap and a thud as he flung it over the couch in the main living area of the suite. He plopped down next to it and put his feet up on the coffee table. Hands folded behind his head, he considered what to do next. 

The pill was wearing off. Physically he still felt good and most likely would continue to long after it wore off. That was the legitimate use of Synival, to straighten out the functions of the major organs. It couldn’t cure cancer or set a broken bone, but for things like improving the function of the Time Lord equivalent of a liver or kidneys it was quite useful. Fixing a dicey digestive system was trivial. It was the mental side effects that were of concern. There would be an incredible crash from the euphoria the medication brought on. And that crash was starting. 

He stood up suddenly, knowing what he had to do. It was time to get to sleep, before the worst of the effects started. There the delusions would manifest as nightmares until the comatose part of the crash began. The time between the start of the delusions and the coma varied. It could be as long as two hours or they could occur simultaneously. With his luck it would be the former, not the latter.

There was a surprise waiting for him when he entered the bedroom. On top of the immaculately made bed was a package. He approached it cautiously. It was gift wrapped in expensive gold paper that had a smooth waxy feel to it, with a sheer silver ribbon tied around the package in a bow. He untied the bow and took off the wrapping paper. Inside were his pajamas, cleaned, pressed and the buttons sewn back on. He wondered just how much that extra service Jack was paying for cost. 

On the night stand next to the bed he found something called a sleep hygiene kit. He wasn’t sure if this was a part of the extra service or something the staff had added after seeing the state of his room that morning. There was a card describing what steps to take to ensure a good night’s sleep, a lavender sachet to put under a pillow, a CD of ocean sounds, and finally some chamomile tea. He dismissed the card and the tea but gave the sachet a sniff. It was a pleasant scent and did calm his brain down a somewhat. He couldn’t detect any ill effects from it and maybe it might tone down the nightmares that were sure to come. 

A dull pain was starting in his head, a sign he needed to get to sleep soon. He put the sachet under his pillow and the CD in the player that was on the night stand. As he dressed in the pajamas he noticed the sound of the waves on the CD would match the pattern of his breathing when he was asleep. That would be a help, if he synced his breathing with it, he should fall asleep quickly.

He stood over the bed and tried to think of anything he might have forgotten. He became aware of another presence in the room, dark, malevolent. He turned quickly, his sonic screwdriver held at the ready. There was nothing, nothing there at all. The delusions were starting. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as the pain in his head became sharp and penetrating. He needed to get to sleep quickly, before sleep became impossible.

Settling into the bed he pulled the covers over himself. He worked on relaxing, breathing in time with the CD’s ocean waves, concentrating on that sound, ignoring the pain in his head. Slowly, too slowly, he felt peaceful, his limbs heavy and logy as sleep started to take him away. Relief took him that last step to slumber, where all the dark thought and memories, that his mind came up with as the crash continued would just take the form of a dream. A dream that hopefully this night, like the previous night, he wouldn’t remember. As sleep took him between one breath and the next, the back of his mind screamed at him that something was wrong, very, very, wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

_“Good, pillow, covers,”_ thought the Doctor as he woke up. _“Much better than last time.”_ His eyes snapped open when he started to stretch and felt the carpet against his skin as his pajamas caught on the rough, scratchy surface. He found himself staring at the bed frame. He was on the floor. 

With a sigh he rolled over onto his back. Another rough night he remembered nothing about. Someone had put a pillow under his head and put a blanket and quilt over him, there was no prize for guessing who. He almost called out Jack’s name, but stopped himself. Jack having seen him passed out on the floor was enough humiliation for one day. He wanted to be cleaned up and fully clothed before he confronted the captain. 

As he got up off the floor, he noticed his pajamas were damp, soaked in cold sweat, causing them to cling to his body and bind when he moved. He was sitting on the bed removing them when he noticed the lamp on the nightstand was missing. Its remains were in the trash basket next to the desk. The thick wire harp that held the shade, sticking up over the top of the container, the shade itself sat relatively unharmed on top of the desk. The Doctor breathed in with a hiss as he shook his head. It must have been a very rough night.

Wearily he stood up and stretched. Sleeping on the floor may be desirable for some people but his bony frame was ill suited to such a surface. His body snapped and cracked as he stretched the kinks out. A shower was next on the agenda. He completed it quickly, not wanting Jack to walk in on him before he was ready. With a clatter he checked the closet. The brown suit would do again for today. The blue one was still too much a reminder of things gone wrong. 

Soon the Doctor was fully clothed and groomed. He gave one last look in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair to give it that casual I don’t care look he preferred. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn’t feel great, but good enough to face whatever the morning would have to offer. He patted his breast pocket. The pills were still there, just in case he needed them. He put a false spring in his step as he approached the door, wanting to impress his friend with his vigor as he entered the living area. 

His act was for nothing. To his surprise he found no one was waiting for him. The living area was empty. Lit only by a single light in the wet bar area. The curtains were closed against the outside. He felt a moment of panic when he saw his coat was no longer on the couch where he had left it. To his relief he soon discovered it neatly hung up in the closet, no doubt Jack’s handiwork again. 

Unsure of what to do next, he went over to the hospitality tray to prepare some tea. It would help him wake up a bit more before he dealt with Jack. Once the electric kettle was heating the water the Doctor went over to the window and drew back the curtains. Cold hit him as the window was revealed. He put his hand on it, the glass was so cold it was almost painful to hold it there. 

He dropped his hand and surveyed the sky. Another grey day was in the offing. A cold miserable grey day, he felt his mood shift to match it. He turned away when he heard a click behind him, indicating the water had reached the boiling point and was done. He lay the sachet of black tea in a white china cup and proceeded to pour the hot water over it. Watching the steam rise up from the cup made him realize how cold he felt. 

Cup in hand, he checked the thermostat, twenty one degrees Celsius. That should be more than warm enough for him. Had to be an aftereffect of the pill he hadn’t been aware of. Maybe if he just took half of one it would ease the symptoms he now felt, just give him a little bit of that euphoria to help him through the day. He found his hand sliding towards his pocket and stopped himself. No, that was how it started he thought. Just a little more and then… It was best they stay in his pocket, unused, at least for now.

He sat down on the couch, finished his tea and found himself feeling peckish. Jack or no Jack, it was time to go downstairs for breakfast. Some food would put him in a better frame of mind. Surely the captain could find him there. He put on his coat and walked to the door, only to find a note stuck to the handle. Impossible for him to ignore. He pulled it off with a wry smile, amused by the location. The message however confused him.

Stay put.  
Whatever you do, don’t leave the suite.

Jack

The Doctor shook his head. Jack was being melodramatic, certainly there was no harm in him going down to breakfast. He tossed the note aside and was about to open the door when he felt the handle turn under his hand, seemingly of its own accord. He stepped back as the door opened in front of him and Jack slid sideways into the room, careful not to let anyone outside see in.

“Hello, Captain, I was about to go to breakfast. Care to join me?” asked the Doctor.

Jack looked down at the crumpled paper on the floor, then back to the Doctor. “Didn’t you read the note I left?”

“Yes, but surely you meant stay inside the building, not the suite. I can have breakfast, can’t I?”

“Yes, you can. I’ve ordered it brought up here.” 

“What, the whole buffet? Wouldn’t it be easier to go down there?” quipped the Doctor.

“No, not the buffet,” replied a tired and exasperated sounding Jack, “but a full English breakfast, with extra bacon. Come on, I’ll make you some tea. We need to talk.” Jack took the Doctor by the elbow and guided him away from the door. 

“Why can’t we go outside?” asked the Doctor as he looked over his shoulder at the door. “I’ve already had some tea. I don’t need any more.”

“Doctor please, just trust me. You don’t want to go out there. Here, let me take your coat,” said Jack as he put his hands on the Doctor’s shoulders and started to remove the coat. 

The Doctor ducked out from under his hands and turned to face him. “I’ll keep it on, thank you. It’s a bit chilly in here this morning,” he protested as he flopped down on the couch, crossing his arms to emphasize his displeasure. 

Jack stared at him, puzzled at the respone. He was about to say something, when there was a knock at the door. The Doctor started to get up from the couch.

“No, you stay here. I’ll get it,” said Jack as he motioned to the Doctor to sit back down. The Doctor frowned but reluctantly did as Jack directed. Soon Jack was back with a trolley, filled with food, which he proceeded to place on the table. The Doctor casually wandered over and sat down. 

“So I gather this is mine?” he asked as he picked up the plate whose fare included barbequed beans. Just the smell of the food was improving his mood. The digestive problems of the previous night were indeed gone. 

“Well, it’s certainly not mine,” replied Jack as he took a plate of fried eggs, toast and bacon for himself. “Doctor, I need to ask you a few questions about yesterday.”

“Yesterday? What questions could you possibly have about yesterday? You were practically on top of me the whole day. I felt like I couldn’t take a breath without you sharing it,” the Doctor responded irritably. Yesterday was over and done with. He didn’t look forward to rehashing it. 

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Doctor this is serious. I need to know everything that happened yesterday. Starting with when you first met the Atterian.”

“I told you yesterday, nothing happened. She asked me to join her and the ambassador for breakfast. I turned her down and she planted a tracking device on me. That’s it.”

“And the ambassador, did you talk to him at all?” 

“No, just her.” 

“You never went near their table or touched anything she brought back to it?”

“No, what’s this about?” replied the Doctor confused.

“I’ll get to that. I need you to concentrate on yesterday for now,” said Jack, his uncharacteristically serious tone making the Doctor feel ill at ease. “Now yesterday at the Hub, for a moment she looked terrified of you. What was that about?”

“I don’t know. I can’t be responsible for how someone reacts to me. Maybe my lecture had sunk in and she realized she’d had a close call. Other than that I have no idea,” answered the Doctor, growing concerned at where this questioning was going. 

Jack looked down at his plate and ate a few bites before resuming his questioning. “Did you run into her or the ambassador after you left the Hub for your walk this afternoon?”

“No, I didn’t run into anyone, you know that. I could hear the CCTV cameras following me every step of the way.” 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. “Ah… We weren’t actively watching it the whole time. Gwen wanted to get home and Ianto and I became, ah, distracted. We used an image recognition program to follow you automatically. I haven’t had a chance to view the recording yet.” 

“Well, when you do view it, you will see I was actively avoiding running into anyone.”

“Okay, that’s good to know. Now what happened with you at dinner?”

“Nothing, I just had a little upset stomach and it went away. There’s absolutely nothing sinister about it,” snapped the Doctor. Picking up his orange juice he drank down it quickly to hide his irritation with Jack’s revisiting a subject he had already declared closed. The sudden influx of the acidic fluid didn’t sit well in his stomach. He ate some toast to act as a buffer, easing the pain before it took hold. Looking up from his plate, he saw Jack studying him intently.

“Doctor, I’ve never seen anyone turnaround from being that sick as fast as you did.” 

“Had much experience with Time Lords, have you? We may look like you, but we are quite different from you, I can assure you.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you that,” said Jack holding up his hands in surrender. “Now, last night, what happened after you left the Hub?”

“Nothing, I walked back here and went to bed.”

“What about in the reception? Didn’t you run into the ambassador and Celeste?” persisted Jack.

“Not really, I smiled at her and gave a little wave. Hardly an encounter.”

“How close were you when that happened?”

“I was just inside the doorway. They were at the lifts. I was at least 10 meters away.”

“You didn’t ride up with them or have any other contact?”

“No, they looked like they wanted to be alone, so I didn’t intrude.” The Doctor shook his head in frustration. “What does this have to do with me having to stay here?”

“Just a few more questions then I‘ll tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?” the Doctor asked, raising his voice in frustration.

“Keep it down,” admonished Jack. “For your sake, I have to follow procedure on this.”

“Procedure? Since when have you been concerned about procedure?”

“Since following it may be the only way I have of protecting you.” Jack leaned forward resting his folded arms on the table. “Doctor, please, just bear with me a little longer,” he asked softly. “This really is for your own good. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

The Doctor saw the plea for understanding in his friend's eyes. He looked down at his almost empty plate as he considered his response. “Alright, I’ll play it your way for now,” he reluctantly agreed. 

“Good. Now, last night, did anything unusual or out of the ordinary happen?”

The Doctor pursed his lips and shook his head as he answered, “No, nothing.”

“Your bedroom was a wreck when I came in. How did that happen?”

“I don’t know. I went to bed and wound up on the floor. Sometimes I can be pretty restless in my sleep. It’s not that unusual. What were you doing in my room anyway?” asked the Doctor.

“I was making sure you were alright,” answered Jack before continuing with his questioning. “So you didn’t hear anything at all last night? Nothing woke you up or disturbed your sleep?”

“No, nothing, I already told you that.” The Doctor put down his fork and pushed his plate away. The questions were making him feel more and more uneasy. Why, he didn’t know. 

“I was afraid of that,” replied Jack. “Any unusual dreams you remember?”

“No, I don’t remember anything between when I went to sleep and when I woke up. What do my dreams have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I’m grasping at straws here,” responded a despondent Jack. “Even they have to admit you were out cold when we first got here.”

“They? There was more than one person in my room? What did you do? Put me on display? Sell tickets?” The Doctor was appalled at the revelation it had been more than just Jack who saw him passed out on the floor. 

“No, just one other person as a witness to your condition. Don’t worry, I had everything straightened up before they saw you.” He took a deep breath, looked at his watch and sighed. “We don’t have much time. They are going to be getting impatient.”

Jack stood up, glanced at the Doctor and turned away, swallowing hard as he did so. He started unnecessarily to put the empty breakfast dishes back on the trolley. The Doctor saw it for the obvious delaying tactic it was. “Jack, what is it? What’s going on?”

“Doctor, I’m going to need you to cooperate with me, as of now you are officially in my custody.”

“I’m in your custody? What, with handcuffs and everything?” replied the Doctor holding out his wrists, trying to make light of what was obviously distressing Jack. “What’s the charge? Parking the TARDIS improperly? Interfering with the tourist trade?” 

“No, no handcuffs, I promise I’ll do whatever I can to avoid that,” replied Jack, desperation for understanding apparent in his voice. “You have to help me by not trying to take over and act like you are in charge. Doctor, once we go through that door you are my prisoner.”

The word prisoner was barely audible. The Doctor could tell it had pained the captain to say it. “Jack, what is it? What’s happened?” he asked, suddenly more concerned for his friend than himself.

“Doctor, it’s the Atterian, Celeste. She’s dead. Murdered. And you have been declared a person of interest in the case.”


	13. Chapter 13

The Doctor sat stunned, trying to absorb what Jack had told him. Make some sense of it. The Atterian was dead and he was somehow implicated, it made no sense. He opened his mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Not because he had nothing to say but he had so much to say, it was all stuck, with him not knowing where to start. He stared at nothing as he tried to sort it out, get a handle on a knot of words and ideas which were so mixed up, that as soon as he thought he had hold of one coherent idea, another one pushed it out of the way before he could utter it. 

He reached for his orange juice pretending to be getting the last little bit of fluid from the bottom of the glass as he composed himself. “How… How did she die?” was the question that finally came out after he put the glass down. 

Jack looked down at the table briefly before meeting the Doctor’s gaze. “I sorry, I can’t discuss the details with you,” he said as he stood up. “We need to get going.” 

“Where?” asked the Doctor as he pushed away from the table. 

“First, next door, MI5 wants to talk to you at the crime scene. Hopefully Torchwood after that. Oh and Doctor, I need your sonic screwdriver.” 

“What? Why?” The Doctor felt oddly panicked. He was already without his TARDIS, he didn’t want to give up his sonic. What next his coat? His suit? 

“Sorry, MI5 considers you dangerous if you have it on you. You are going to have to surrender it either to me or them. With me at least you’ll get it back. I promise.” 

“And if I choose not to?” snapped the Doctor. 

“I won’t take it from you by force, but MI5 will and they will then take you into their custody. Look, they are itching for an excuse to get their hands on you. I’m not sure why, but I can’t imagine it’s for your benefit.” 

The Doctor stared at Jack with narrowed eyes and a frown on his face. He made no move to produce the sonic but waited for Jack to continue. 

Jack sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I have to play along for now. The Atterian dying within twenty four hours of being picked up by us isn’t playing well. Right now I am having a hard time convincing the powers that be that I can control you. And if they think I can’t, you will be turned over to MI5.” 

“Why would…?” A quick knock at the door interrupted the Doctor’s response. It opened and the Doctor saw the hallway was crowded with UNIT soldiers and a few men wearing suits. Ianto quickly closed it behind him as he entered the room. 

“Sir, Mr. Fisher is getting impatient. He is threatening to call Whitehall again,” the Welshman reported. 

“Tell Frank he can call Whitehall all he wants. The Doctor is an alien, therefore he’s our jurisdiction,” answered Jack. 

“Yes sir,” Ianto responded and left the room. 

Jack looked at the Doctor. “So, you going to help me out or not?” 

Reluctantly the Doctor reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. “Take care good care of it, will you?” he asked as he handed it over to Jack. 

“Don’t worry, I will,” Jack assured him as he put the sonic into his own pocket. “Now remember, you aren’t in charge. So don’t start trying to take over the investigation. I'm not sure why MI5 wants their little melodrama of you at the crime scene, but right now it’s their show and it could be to your advantage to see it.” Jack stood with his hand on the door handle. “You ready?” 

“Of course, I’ve handled worse than MI5,” replied the Doctor with false cheerfulness as he put his hands in his pockets. 

Jack screwed up his face, uneasy with the picture he saw in front of him. “Uh… Doctor, you need to keep you hands visible at all times.” 

“Oh, right, right. Quite right, sorry. Forgot myself for a bit there. Well, shall we go?” 

Jack opened the door and led the way into the crowded corridor. A tall blond man in a well tailored single breasted dark grey suit, and a white shirt broke away from talking to two UNIT soldiers as soon as he noticed the Doctor. 

“So, is he healthy enough for questioning now?” the man asked sarcastically his blue eyes staring at the Doctor in disdain. 

“Give it a rest, Frank. You saw him this morning. He was practically comatose,” replied Jack in annoyance. 

The Doctor looked sharply at Jack, but said nothing, trusting him to handle the situation, content for the moment to try and figure out why this man had so much animosity towards him. 

“Still, it seems awfully convenient. For all I know you told him to play possum. Suspicious, you leaving a murder scene to go tuck in your friend here,” insinuated Frank. 

“UNIT was right behind me when I got here. They secured the area and the crime scene. Not my fault you were slow of foot as usual.” Frank’s expression soured at the implied insult. Jack ignored it and continued. “Besides, Ianto was here to supervise, not that they needed it. I had to make sure the Doctor was okay.” 

“What about the ambassador? He was in shock. His health wasn’t important?” 

“Torchwood doesn’t currently have any medical personnel, UNIT does,” countered Jack. “They were able to handle the ambassador’s ‘shock’ much better than we could have. If you are going to stand there and argue procedure with me I’ll take him back to Torchwood now.” 

“You can’t do that,” said Frank with a hint of threat in his voice. 

“I can and I will. He’s an alien and therefore our jurisdiction…” 

“Or UNIT’s,” Frank corrected. 

“That’s moot, UNIT has already agreed to let Torchwood have custody of the Doctor. I’m not sure why you’re here at all. The Doctor is alien, the victim is alien.” 

“But the ambassador isn’t. He’s a government official and that makes it our jurisdiction.” 

“I still say that makes the ambassador your jurisdiction, not the crime itself. Unless you’re willing to admit he is the guilty party.” 

Frank was quiet for a second or two while he considered his options. Suddenly he acted. “You come on, I want you to take a look at your handiwork,” said Frank as he grabbed the Doctor by the upper arm and roughly pulled him forward. 

The Doctor was about to jerk his arm away, when he felt the grip on his arm loosen. He looked down in surprise to see that Ianto applying a nerve hold to Frank’s elbow. “You have no authority to touch the Doctor while he is in our custody,” Ianto explained calmly as he release his hold on the MI5 agent. 

Jack grinned briefly when the Doctor glanced over at him, then composed himself to a more professional demeanor before speaking up. “Frank, there’s no need to manhandle him. He’s here voluntarily. He’s even surrendered his sonic screwdriver as you requested.” Jack reached into his pocket producing the Doctor’s favorite device. “See? Satisfied?” 

“Good,” said Frank holding out his hand, a sly look on his face.” Let’s have it.”

“Oh no,” replied Jack, smiling at him as he put the device back in his inside coat pocket. “This is definitely alien technology and clearly our area.” 

“Can we just get on with this?” asked the Doctor, tiring of the bureaucratic interchange. He started walking towards the suite door, only to be stopped by Frank’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Frank, what’s the problem?” Jack asked. 

“I don’t believe he is really under your control, I want him in handcuffs, leg irons would be even better,” said Frank, keeping a grip on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s cooperating fully and showing more restraint than I would if I were him. There is no need for handcuffs. If he was a citizen he wouldn’t even be under arrest. Just get on with it, and get your hand off him before I ask Ianto to demonstrate what other pressure points he knows.” 

Frank sized up Ianto, who rewarded him with a stony stare, before removing his hand from the Doctor’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll let it go this time, but you,” Frank jerked his head at the Doctor. “You don’t go anywhere until you are told to.” 

Jack had come up alongside the Doctor while Frank was exerting his authority. The Doctor slid his eyes over to him. Silently asking if he could please speak his mind on just how ridiculous this all was getting to be. A short shake of Jack’s head was his answer. Frustrated the Doctor worked to keep control of his temper. Having to play along with this idiot Frank was irritating, but he owed Jack, so he complied. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get in there,” said Frank indicating the open doorway to the suite next to the Doctor’s. With an exasperated roll of his eyes the Doctor strode forward and entered the living area of the suite. The room was brightly lit and at first glance appeared filled with UNIT soldiers, but a quick count revealed only four and two men in plain clothes, who he assumed were from MI5. 

The center of attention was the ambassador, who was sitting on the couch in white and blue stripped pajamas, a hotel white terry cloth dressing gown draped over his shoulders. His cuffed hands fell between his knees as he stared blankly at the floor. Frail and shaken, he looked nothing like the imposing authoritative figure the Doctor had seen the night before in the reception. Blood was splattered on the man’s clothes. Fresh blood. 

“This way Doctor,” ordered Frank, indicating the open bedroom door. The Doctor was about to enter the room when a voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“You, you,” rasped the ambassador. “Why did you do it? She did nothing to you. She wouldn’t even tell me what frightened her. She kept your secret.” 

The Doctor turned to the ambassador and saw the man’s distraught face, skin pale, almost colorless, cheeks sunken, eyes red rimmed and watery. It was the face of a man broken and tormented. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said the Doctor. 

“You killed her… It… it… was terrible… I couldn’t stop it…” The ambassador’s words came out in gasps, the horror in his eyes growing. He looked down at his fettered hands and the blood splattered sleeve. “My body wasn’t my own… my hand kept… it kept… stabbing her… again and again. I couldn’t stop it. But worse was the laughter… in my head… so cruel…” he sobbed. The UNIT medic started preparing a syringe as the ambassador stared up at the Doctor, his neck taut, the tendons showing under the skin, his tears running freely down his face as he continued. 

“Then I was laughing… Heaven help me… the last thing she heard was my laughter as she died.” At these words the ambassador broke down, face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably, shaking so hard the dressing gown fell from his shoulders. The Doctor started to step forward, wanting to comfort the man, assure him he was not responsible for the horrific events that had happened, that he would work to discover who was responsible, make sure they were brought to justice, only to be stopped by Jack. 

“Later,” said Jack as the medic administered the shot to the devastated man, “they’ll take care of him for now. Though I don’t agree with their reasons, I do feel you need to see the crime scene. You’ll see things I’m sure MI5 has missed.” 

The room smelled of sex and sweat but strongest of all was the wet iron and copper smell of blood that hit the Doctor’s senses as he entered the room. His eyes were drawn to the source of the odor, the blood soaked bed in the center of the room. The Atterian lay there in a pale pink nightgown, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Her shape shifting talent apparently too slow, requiring too much concentration for her to use it to defend herself. There were numerous wounds in her torso, the most prominent one a slash across her throat, the source of the largest pool of blood on the bed. 

He forced himself to look at the scene objectively, try to find clues as to what had happened. Her defensive wounds were minimal. She had most likely died quickly, but still horribly, her flesh torn as blood and life had drained out of her. Her nightgown was relatively undisturbed, not neat as if someone had arranged it after she had died, but covering enough to indicate the assault had not been sexual in nature. Anything along those lines must have occurred before the attack. 

He touched her bare arm with the back of his hand. The body was still warm, the blood on the bed was still damp, the murder was recent. “Do you know when this happened?” 

Jack looked at his watch. “About an hour ago. We heard it as soon as it started, this room is heavily monitored. We got here as quickly as we could, but too late for her.” 

“No, no, no, no,” thought the Doctor. He should have woken up, heard her cries. There was only a single wall between this room and his. Not enough to block out the sound. If he hadn’t been passed out like some burnt out addict he might have been able to stop it, save her life. 

The packet of drugs he had been so happy to rely on earlier, now burned in his pocket like the poison it was. He had to get rid of them. Get rid of them now. He carelessly let his hand brush one of the pools of blood. “Oh,” he said holding his hand up to for Frank to see. “Do you mind if I clean this off?” 

Frank frowned as he considered the question. “No, go ahead,” he finally responded. “Just make sure you leave the door open.” 

The Doctor entered the ensuite and turned on the tap in the sink. He quickly washed off the blood and took out the packet of pills, shielding his action from anyone who might be peering in. A sharp stabbing pain in the front of his head made him gasp and clutch the edge of the sink to steady himself. For an instant he considered taking just one last one to get rid of the pain, then realized that was a very bad sign. Quickly, and with a pang of regret, he dumped the pills into the sink. Relief washed over him as they swirled down the drain. Gone, out of reach, where they belonged. He had thought he could handle them. Now someone was dead. He wondered if there was any end to his stupidity. 

He splashed water on his face and toweled it off before turning around. He was startled to find Jack standing there in the doorway. Whether the captain was watching the Doctor or providing extra cover, he couldn’t tell. He thought most likely it was both. 

“Are you alright?” asked Jack. 

“I’m perfectly fine. Didn’t want to get any blood on my coat, that’s all,” replied the Doctor, more cheerily than he felt as his head began to throb. He pushed past Jack and back into the room. 

Reentering the room, he noticed the murder weapon on the floor next to the bed, almost concealed beneath it, a numbered piece of tape marking its location. Squatting down, careful not to disturb it, he examined it carefully. It was a small knife, its blood smeared blade had a serrated edge. Its tip had been broken off, possibly from hitting a bone. “What’s a knife doing in a bedroom? Did he bring it with him?” asked the Doctor. 

“No, room service had delivered a wine and cheese tray last night. The knife was part of the tray,” Jack explained. 

“You sure? It looks more like a knife one would use on steak or meat than on cheese,” the Doctor observed. 

“We are checking up on that, but I doubt it will come to much. Most likely just lazy staff in the kitchen,” said Jack. 

The Doctor shook his head as he stood up. “So not premeditated then.” 

“No, we don’t think so. You heard him, he thinks something took over his body, made him kill her. I think it was a crime of passion and he’s convinced himself of that so he doesn’t have to live with the guilt.” 

“And I believe him,” Frank interrupted. “Time Lords have a history of mind control. She was terrified of the Doctor, not the ambassador. The night clerk saw it. The ambassador had no reason to kill her.” 

“And what possible motive would the Doctor have?” countered Jack. 

“I don’t know, but the Atterian was scared of something, something about him.” 

“Look, for him to connect with someone he has to physically touch them. He didn’t have any physical contact with the ambassador. There is no way he could have done what the ambassador is saying,” Jack reasoned. “The ambassador most likely went into a rage when he found out the Atterian was leaving him. The Doctor is no more guilty than the member of kitchen staff who put the knife on the tray.” 

The Doctor decided to examine the room further, letting the conversation fade into the background of his consciousness. Everything was neat and orderly. The violence had been contained to the bed, not even the night stand had been disturbed. He was studying blood splatter on the headboard when he had a sudden flash, like a memory in his mind, only it wasn’t his memory. It was filled with blood and violence. It was a memory of the murder. Had Celeste in desperation tried to reach out to him mentally? Had her feeble telepathic power, unable to rouse him, somehow managed to leave an imprint of the crime in his mind? 

No, no, that wasn’t it. With increasing dismay he realized he was wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. He could see the thick fat drops of blood hit the headboard in the exact pattern of the drying splatter. He turned and left the room, ignoring Frank’s call to stay where he was. The ambassador, tranquil now from the drugs he had been given, looked at him blankly as he entered the room. The Doctor stared at the man’s hand. The one that had held the knife, a gold signet ring was on one of the fingers. A ring he hadn’t noticed before, but now recognized as the one he saw in his mind. 

He studied the pattern of the blood on the ambassador’s sleeve. In his mind he saw that splatter occur, felt the knife in his hand as it penetrated her flesh, saw the individual drops hitting the fabric. The signet ring slipping against the handle of the weapon when the blade would go no further. 

He was seeing the murder, but not from the victim’s point of view as he had first thought, but from the murderer’s. He felt dizzy and weak, unaware he was leaning back against the door jam for support, as a sound rose in his mind, a maniacal sadist laughter. A laughter he was now sure, was the same as what the ambassador had heard.


	14. Chapter 14

The Doctor shook his head, trying to clear it. He immediately hissed in pain and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, his skull felt as if Pallas Athena herself was trying to break out.  He winced away from Jack’s hand was on his shoulder. 

“Just give me a moment,” the Doctor gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them wide as he stretched his jaw.  Giving his forehead a final rub he straightened up and froze as he realized he was sitting in a chair with no memory of how he had arrived there.  Jack was crouched down in front of him, peering at his face worriedly. Frank standing behind him, watching like a bird of prey and the Doctor was the prey. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Jack asked “I thought you were going to faint for a second there.”

“What?!” exclaimed the Doctor, who then immediately flinched at the sound of his own voice. “I don’t faint. It’s just…, it’s just my headache flared up. That’s all. It was literally blinding there for a few seconds. It’s under control now.”

“Headaches, he’s claiming headaches now?” Frank asked skeptically.  

 “I told you he’s been ill,” Jack responded keeping his back to Frank. “He’s had these headaches ever since he lost his TARDIS.” Jack gave the Doctor a reassuring wink as he made the last statement. 

“I’m still not buying that. How could he lose his TARDIS? He’s the only one who can pilot it.” 

With an exaggerated sigh Jack stood up and turned to face Frank. “That’s not true, others have piloted it, but this time it appears to have wandered off on its own.”

 His view no longer blocked, the Doctor could see the ambassador was gone, the medic was gathering up supplies and glancing worriedly in his direction.  How much time had he lost here? And what was Jack talking about? The TARDIS had wandered off?

“It just left on its own? You really expect me to believe that? And what would that have to do with these headaches you’re claiming he gets,” Frank asked.

“He’s mentally connected with it somehow.  If the TARDIS is acting erratically, it’s bound to affect him.” 

“Really, it affects him? Mentally?” Frank asked suggestively, his voice hopeful. 

“No, not like that. Quit fishing, that’s not going to work. You’ll have better luck getting your father’s friend off working the ‘it’s not really a murder because the victim wasn’t human’ angle.” Jack glanced at his Vortex Manipulator.  “Something’s come up back at the Hub. I think we are finished here. Come on Doctor, let’s go, that problem we talked about earlier looks like it could use your expertise.” 

“Not so fast, I’m not finished with him yet,” Frank protested as he put his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder pushing him back in to the chair.

“Yes you are,” said Jack as he removed Frank’s hand.  “You’ve got nothing to charge him with, unless sleeping in a hotel room is now a crime.”

 The Doctor could feel Frank’s eyes on him as he rose shakily to his feet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help to you,” he apologized, hesitating briefly, considering his next words, wanting to sound more casual than he felt. “Perhaps if I could talk to the ambassador, I might get a better idea of what is going on here,” 

Frank looked slyly at the Doctor. “You could stop by our office here. I’m sure we could arrange…”

 “You’re not going to arrange anything,” Jack interrupted. “If you want him to talk to someone it can be at Torchwood.  We do have to go now.”

Jack started to leave the room, but the Doctor failed to follow him as something caught his attention outside the window. He tried to catch a glimpse of it but failed. He stared out the window, certain he had seen something. But whatever it was had gone. He felt a bit dazed, as if he had missed something, something important, but he couldn’t figure out what. His headache flared again, the pain sharp and stabbing from the inside out. His vision acquired a yellow scrambled quality as if he was looking through broken tinted glass.  He could just barely make out that the medic was starting to leave. 

“Any chance you could spare me some aspirin before you go?” the Doctor asked him.

“What, you want aspirin? I thought you couldn’t have any.” The medic looked puzzled, almost frightened by the request. 

“That’s an error in his file. It turns out it’s perfectly safe for him,” Jack explained.  

“Oh, alright then,” responded the medic as he hurriedly rummaged through his rucksack. “Here, this should do.” He held out a blister pack with two pills. Jack grabbed it from him before the Doctor could and examined it closely. 

“It’s good, just aspirin,” he said as he turned it over to the Doctor. 

The Doctor bit back a sarcastic comment to the effect that he could read for himself and took the pack.  He deftly pushed the pills through the foil and into his hand as the medic protested Jack’s actions. “I wouldn’t give him anything that would hurt him. That’s why I asked about the aspirin in the first place.” 

“Sorry, don’t take it personally.  I’m just not taking any chances with his welfare right now.” 

A glass of water entered the Doctor’s field of vision. The hand holding the glass was attached to Ianto. “Sir, you’ll be wanting this.  Sorry its tap water. The bottled still water was used up.”  
“Tap is fine, thank you,” the Doctor said as he took the offered glass.  He tossed back the pills and quickly swallowed the water, but not quickly enough.  The aspirin had already started to dissolve on his tongue. It had been centuries since he’d had it last but it tasted just as bad as he remembered, worse than pears. “Maybe I should get Jack to change the files back,” he thought as the tepid water washed the bitter paste the aspirin had become down his throat. 

The medic was watching him carefully. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I will be soon,” replied the Doctor.

“I’ve never seen anyone take those without dissolving them first.”  
“What?”  
“Normally when it is in tablet form, you put them in the water and then drink it,” Ianto explained as he took the glass from the Doctor’s hand. 

“Ahh, it’s been a while since I’ve taken it. No wonder…  Well, no harm done,” said the Doctor. 

The medic was peering at him, obviously unhappy with what he saw. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. “You look a bit…” 

“He’s fine,” said Jack. “Or he will be fine once we get out of here. Doctor, if you are ready now?”  Jack impatiently waved his arm towards the door indicating that the Doctor should precede him. 

“Yes, certainly, you said you have a problem that I can help on? What is it?” asked the Doctor as he and Jack left the room.  

“It’s the haulage firm again,” Jack explained. “Rhys came to work this morning and again every single solenoid had been burned out.”

“Really? And the police still have no idea what it’s about?” asked the Doctor as he entered the lift. The aspirin was making his headache a thing of the past and now his curiosity piqued. This was the kind of puzzle he enjoyed.  Something that had everyone else stymied and more importantly, one he wasn’t a suspect in.  

“No, they don’t, but this time whoever’s doing it left a calling card.” Jack stopped talking as they exited the lift. The Doctor was about to ask about the calling card, but the fear he saw in the reception clerk’s eyes stopped him.   The man’s expression confused him. He’d done nothing to cause this man to fear him. He turned to talk to him, only to be stopped by Jack’s hand on his elbow.

“No, don’t, Frank will have a field day if he catches you talking to a witness without one of his people present,” he explained as he escorted the Doctor out the door. 

The SUV was parked just outside the entrance. The Doctor looked away from it towards the Plass. “I think I’ll walk,” he said as he pulled his coat around him as a shield against the cold damp Welsh air.

Jack shook his head. “No, we’re not going back to the Hub. That was just a ruse to keep Frank occupied and out of our way.” he explained. “Speaking of keeping Frank out of the way. Ianto”

“I’m on it sir.” The Welshman pulled a device out of his pocket, after pressing a few buttons he stared at the screen. “Eight sir, five on the Doctor, two on you and one on myself.”

“Eight?” Jack chuckled. “That’s what I counted, but I couldn’t believe it. Obviously government cutbacks haven’t reached Frank yet.”

“Shall we give him some asset loses to report?” Ianto suggested.

“About half, use the rest to keep him occupied.”  
Ianto smiled. “Yes sir, Doctor if you don’t mind?”   
“No, not at all,” the Doctor answered. He was confused and worried he had detected two tracking devices being put on him, but five?  How could he have missed that? Maybe he really did need a keeper if he was slipping that much.

Ianto proceeded to pick tiny pieces of metal, barely larger than a grain of sand, off the Doctor, two on his coat, one on his tie, one in his hair and the last one on the hem of his trousers.  The Doctor had no idea how the last two had been placed. Jack handed two more to Ianto, who smiled as he took the eighth device off his own sleeve and left towards the entrance of the hotel.

“You should get in the car,” Jack told the Doctor.  “We are going to the Harwood’s. Gwen’s there waiting for us.” 

“What about Ianto?”

“He won’t be long, see there he is now.” 

Ianto returned grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Found a good place did you?” Jack asked.

“Yes sir, a Scottish couple was checking out talking about returning home today. They have four hitchhikers now.  The rest met an unfortunate end.” Ianto held out his hand revealing the blackened devices. 

“Good work, Now if there are no other problems let’s get going.” said Jack. 

“Yes sir,” said Ianto as he held open the passenger door for the Doctor.

The Doctor frowned as he settled into the passenger seat. He was disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting a chance to check on the TARDIS. Jack seemed to understand his concern. “Don’t worry, she’s still there and as cranky as ever.  People were practically crab walking to get into the Millennium Centre last night she was pushing at them so hard.  Frank wanted to know where the TARDIS was, he had to have driven right by the Plass to get here, so I figured if he couldn’t see her might as well let him think she had flown the coop.” 

“Good, once she finishes taking on fuel she should be fine,” said the Doctor.  Jack frowned as he put the car in gear but said nothing.  

Studying  the Plass as they passed it, the Doctor could see what Jack had been talking about.  It was deserted. People passing through were walking round the very edges of it. Even he could barely make out the TARDIS. She was safe at least, he would have to be satisfied with that for now. He turned his attention to Jack and trying to sound more casual than he felt asked, “Any chance you could arrange an interview with the ambassador? I wouldn’t mind going to MI5 if that’s what it takes.”

“No, that’s not a good idea. Frank is far too interested in getting you in there and I doubt it’s for your benefit.” He looked over at the Doctor and shook his head. “Is it really that important you talk to him?”

“It might be. There is something odd going on and I think he could be the key.” 

“Don’t tell me you believe that whole he was ‘possessed’ when he did it story. You’re not falling for that are you?” 

“Actually I think he was. I saw him with her last night, he was very protective of her and she trusted him.  She was telepathic enough to know if he would harm her.  Something else had to have happened and I need to talk to him to find out what it is.”

While Jack took his time answering, the Doctor considered the situation.  A possession would explain the flashes of memory he’d experienced.  A being able to do that could have broadcast into his own mind, he had been just a thin wall away. It was the crime scene that had triggered the memories, that’s all. 

“You know he thinks you were the one who possessed him don’t you?”

“All the more reason for me to talk to him. If I can convince him it wasn’t me then we can work on finding the real killer. The Atterian may not have even been the real target.  The murder could just be a means to discredit the ambassador. He is a high ranking official after all. Maybe someone or something wants him out of the way.” 

Jack sighed. “You honestly think that’s a possibility?”

The Doctor shrugged. “It’s just a theory, one of many.  I need more information. But I don’t believe he is a murderer.”

“Alright, I’ll try to see if we can get the ambassador to Torchwood, but don’t count on it.  It’s going to take pulling a few strings and calling in a few favors to accomplish.”

“Sir,” said Ianto from the back seat, “there is that MP, the one we helped get out of a compromising situation last month. He might be willing to provide some pressure in the right places.” 

Jack bit his lower lip and drew in air with a hiss. “That might work.  In fact if we sell it right, he might not even consider it doing a favor, but rather helping himself. He did claim it was a case of ‘aliens made him do it’. The ambassador is claiming the same thing. Think you can convince him it’s a follow up to his own case?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. He had expressed concern that it might happen to him again. Finding the perpetrator should ease his mind,” Ianto replied with an odd mocking tone to his voice.

“You’ve had something like this happen before?” the Doctor asked his intrigued. 

Jacked snorted a short laugh. “No, not really.  He was experimenting with different life forms. Nothing I would fault him for, but this is such a prudish time, it could impact his position. When a tabloid photographer took pictures he was frantic.  Fortunately we were tracking the pair of aliens he was with. They had been playing with the locals too much and we were about to tell them it was time to move on. We would have confiscated the camera and given the photographer retcon as part of our normal procedure anyway, but the MP didn’t know that. So we let him think we were doing him a big favor. Never hurts to have a grateful MP on your side.”

“I see. You often use retcon?”

“Yeah, why not? It saves on having to invent explanations and we have the dosage down to a fine art. We can erase a person’s memory down to the minute. They wake up fine with no side effects.”

“That you know of.”

“Why, you know of a reason why we shouldn’t?” Jack challenged. 

“No, none that come to mind, but I do think you should be more careful with people’s memories.  You might just erase something important someday.” 

“We are careful, Torchwood has been using it for decades. We haven’t had any problems yet.”

The Doctor shook his head. No matter who was in charge, some things about Torchwood didn’t change.  A reckless disregard for safety seemed to be one of them.  He was about to point that out when Jack pulled up to the gate at Harwood’s. Jack flashed his ID and the guard waved them through.

Jack parked the car just inside the gate.  As the Doctor exited the vehicle he saw Gwen standing next to a tall man, with brown hair and a friendly, though concerned face. He approached the man with long strides and smiled as he held out his hand. “Hello, you must be Rhys, I understand you have a bit of a problem here. I’m the Doctor by the way.”

Rhys took the offered hand. “Gwen here thought you could help. I’m not sure it’s aliens or anything like that, but she said you were clever.” 

The Doctor grinned even wider at the compliment. “Well, I am, if I do say so myself. I think you are right though. I doubt it’s aliens who are sabotaging your trucks. It’s not as if you are hauling anything of alien origin.”

Rhys turned pale at the comment and glanced at Gwen, who chewed her lower lip.  The Doctor looked from one to the other his thoughts going from confused to horrified. “You didn’t?!” he exclaimed.

“It wasn’t like… We didn’t… It’s not as if…” Rhys stammered to a halt in the face of the Doctor’s rising anger. 

Jack stepped forward and tried to save the situation. “The haulage firm had nothing to do with it,” he explained as he clapped his hand on Rhys’ shoulder and continued. “In fact, once Rhys here figured out what the problem was, he risked his life trying to free the alien they were harvesting.” 

“It was alive when they…?” the Doctor asked, starting to feel sick. “They didn’t even kill it first? Why would they do such a thing?

“Greed, just plain, simple, greed,” Jack told him. “They found they could carve chunks out of it and it would continue to live and grow. They didn’t even realize it was sentient.  To them it was just a big hunk of live meat they could harvest and sell.”

The Doctor shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to stay calm reminding himself that the humans with him weren’t the ones who committed that horrendous crime.  “When you said you tried to free it I gather that means it’s dead now?” 

Jack nodded. “Yes, it was too far gone, driven mad by pain.  We had to euthanize it. I couldn’t even tell you what it was.  A poor way to welcome a life form to this planet, I know,” he said sadly. 

“You did what you could I guess,” said the Doctor with a sigh. He put the thoughts of the unknown alien behind him and focused on Rhys and his problem. “So, two days in a row you have lost all your solenoids? The guards last night saw nothing?”

“No, no they didn’t,” replied Rhys his relief that subject had been changed was obvious.  “One person thought he heard a humming sound but nothing was there when he tried to find the source. They did leave a mark on one of the fences though. It’s not a typical gang mark though. It looks all scientific.”

“Now that’s interesting.  Can you show it to me?”

“Gladly, it’s right through here.  Maybe you can figure it out.  It just has everyone here scratching their head.”

The Doctor followed Rhys between the polished white trucks with yellow and red signs on them indicating they belonged to Harwood's Haulage.  They on the outside they all appeared to be in top condition, a contrast to the condition of the car park itself. The tarmac was old, stained with bits of gravel that had freed themselves from the surface. He could feel them through the soles of his trainers as he walked. He was looking down, avoiding a pothole when Rhys spoke up. 

The Doctor looked up to see a large circular sign with several crescents cut out of it and lines asymmetrically running through it: Gallifreyan.  What it said caused his jaw to drop and the blood to leave his face. He felt a presence behind him, then a humming, followed immediately by the crack of Jack’s Webley handgun firing, the bullets making a ringing sound as they ricocheted off a metal surface. 


	15. Chapter 15

The Doctor whipped around, his coat almost entangling his legs as he did so, and saw a small black sphere floating about two meters above the ground. There was a spark as a sixth bullet glanced off the hard outer shell of the Toclafane. Jack quickly reloaded. 

“No, no, Jack, put your gun down,” demanded the Doctor as he put out his hand towards the captain, palm up and fingers spread, reinforcing his order to stop. 

“What! Are you kidding?” asked Jack, who shifted his stance as he divided his attention between the Doctor and the Toclafane, training his weapon on the latter. “Have you forgotten what they can do? What they did do?” 

“No, I haven’t. How could I? But, this one may be different. Just like all humans don’t carve up alien visitors while they are alive, maybe all Toclafane aren’t violent. You wouldn’t want me to judge you by that, just because you are the same species, would you? It hasn’t attacked yet. Let’s give it a chance, see what it does before you try to destroy it.”

“Give a Toclafane a chance? Are you insane?” 

“No, I’m not. Trust me. I don’t think this one means any harm.”

Jack shook his head as he stepped away from the Doctor, giving himself a clearer shot and freeing himself from any further Time Lord interference. The Doctor glanced at him and hoped the captain would hold his fire and not scare the Toclafane off. He took a quick look at Rhys and Gwen. Gwen had her firearm out, taking her cue from Jack, Rhys towering behind her, looking protective, but also upset and unsure as to how to proceed. Ianto, stood on the other side of Rhys, his gun also out. 

For its part the Toclafane hung in the air bobbing quietly for a few moments as if trying to decide something, then suddenly it deployed its spikes. There was a sharp intake of air from Jack and the click of the gun’s hammer being pulled back. “No, Jack!” shouted the Doctor, as the sound of the shot was followed by the ring of a bullet hitting the sphere’s hull. He heard the scrape of a shoe on the tarmac and looked to see Gwen side-stepping in a flanking maneuver, her aim steady. 

“All of you, stand down! There’s no need for this!” the Time Lord ordered, to no avail. 

“I’ll stand down when it does,” declared Jack never taking his focus off the Toclafane. 

The situation was escalating and the only thing the Doctor could think of to defuse it was to put himself between the Toclafane and Jack. He stepped towards the sphere only to be stopped in his tracks by what the Toclafane did next. 

One by one the spikes dropped from the sphere, chiming musically as they hit the tarmac. The Doctor suppressed a laugh at Jack’s puzzled expression, pleased his guess had apparently been correct. He then winced as the sphere emitted an earsplitting screech. Suddenly small pieces of glass, the lenses of the energy weapons the Toclafane carried, erupted from the sphere and joined the spikes on the tarmac. 

“What? What’s it doing?” Jack asked, obviously confused as he kept his aim on the sphere. 

“You said you would stand down when it did. I think it just laid down its arms and surrendered. That symbol on the fence was a very primitive form of Gallifreyan. It said ‘surrender Toclafane’. It’s not very precise, I wasn’t sure if it was an order for us to surrender or if the Toclafane would be surrendering. Now we know,” explained the Doctor with a cheeky grin. 

“The Doctor is wise,” said the harsh metallic voice of the Toclafane. “I wait for the Doctor.”

“You didn’t wait very patiently, did you? You’ve been following me since I landed, haven’t you,” accused the Doctor, relieved he had found the answer to what had been dogging him, appearing only at the edge of his vision. That relief died with the Toclafane’s answer. 

“No, I stay here. I felt your ship. I make you come here. It’s safe, no one remembers.”

“I remember,” growled Jack, steadying his aim, keeping the Toclafane in his sights.

The Doctor sighed. “Jack, this one isn’t one of those. It can’t be. Think about it.”

“What do you mean it can’t be? How can you tell, one looks just like another,” Jack protested.

“If it had killed anyone, it would have been part of the paradox and have disappeared when the paradox was destroyed,” the Doctor explained patiently. “This one had to have been here before the paradox occurred and not killed anyone.”

“You have a point,” said Jack as he reluctantly lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it. 

“Is it this that’s been breaking my lorries?” Rhys asked. “What is it? It’s like one of them things Harold Saxon used to kill that president, but they said they were just fake. Some bit of hocus pocus Saxon cooked up and pretended were aliens.”

“Oh, they are real alright,” the Doctor assured him. “Or rather they were. This is probably the last one in existence.”

“And it had to pick on my firm? Why couldn’t it go after Davis’ lorries down the road?” 

“The woman,” answered the Toclafane. 

“Gwen? What’s Gwen got to do with it?”

“She likes you. She would help you. She would get the captain and he would bring the Doctor,” the Toclafane explained.

“So you use my lorries to ring him up?” yelled Rhys gesturing at the Doctor. “You couldn’t think of another way to get his attention?”

“Rhys, settle down now,” Gwen said, trying to reassure him. “It’s an alien, it’s not going to think like we do. I don’t think it knows what it did.”

“Well someone should tell it!”

“We will. It won’t happen again. Jack’ll take care of it.”

“Alright, he’d better. I have enough problems keeping people on in this economy without this thing ruining the business.” said Rhys.

“If you can keep quiet now Rhys, I have some questions I would like to ask it,” said Jack. He then addressed the Toclafane, who was now hovering close to the ground in what the Doctor suspected was the closest it could approximate to a submissive stance. “How did you know the Doctor and I would be together? That I would bring him here?” the captain asked. 

“I was there. On the ship. I saw you try to help the Doctor. The Master said you made him sick and the Doctor was sick for being friends with you. ”

“You were there and you did nothing to help? You just went along with it?” accused Jack, his growing anger apparent. 

“I was scared. Like the humans who went along with him. But I did not hurt anyone or kill anyone.”

“How did you manage that? Didn’t any of your friends notice?” asked Jack.

“I always missed. They did not care, more for them. They enjoyed it. The spikes, I never used them. I would just hesitate and the rest would do it. They would laugh because there was never anything left for me, but it’s what I wanted.”

“That still makes you a party to it,” said Jack, again raising his gun.

The Doctor stepped over to Jack and put his hand on his arm making him lower his weapon. “Jack,” he said quietly. “It did no more than all the humans who gunned people down at the Master’s orders, less in fact. You going to round up all of them and execute them?”

“That was different. They had no choice. He would have killed them if they didn’t obey. They were forced to. If he hadn’t had the Toclafane on his side they would have fought him and won.”

“It is the same. The risks were the same for it as they were for the humans,” the Doctor insisted.

“What, he would kill one of them? Wouldn’t the rest of them have rebelled then?” argued Jack. 

“No,” answered the Toclafane. “They thought I was one of them. If they knew I was different. They would tell him. He would fix me. Make me like them.” 

“Fix you? How would he fix you?” asked the Doctor.

“I was different. I wasn’t part of the network. Not the real network. If he knew, he would make me part of it.”

“The archangel network?”

“No, the bigger network. The network that the archangel network was a part of. He created it when he made us. He tied us to his mind with it.”

“What, he made you? I thought…” The Doctor was interrupted by the sound of sirens getting closer. 

“Okay, boys and girls,” Jack said as he took control of the situation. “We need to move this out of the open. Rhys, can we use your office?”

“Yes, but Jen’s in there. And what‘s all this about Toclafane killing people and the Master? How come I never heard of it? You Retcon the whole planet or something?”

“It was a rather unpleasant period of Earth’s history, which fortunately was erased and not by Retcon,” Jack explained. “Now, go tell Jen to have an early lunch. Ianto can handle your phones. Gwen, explain things to your former co-workers.” He looked over at the Doctor. “Think you can convince your new friend to come with us?”

“I will meet you there,” the Toclafane answered and disappeared. Gwen was already at the gate talking to the local police while Rhys entered the small building that served as the haulage firm's office. 

Jack looked at the Doctor as he holstered his gun. “So, you really think you can trust it?” 

The Doctor bent down and picked up the spikes and lenses off the pavement. He held up one lens, rolling it between the tips of his thumb and index finger, squinting as he examined it carefully in the sunlight, while he absentmindedly put the rest of the Toclafane’s offering in his coat pocket. “Yes, I think so,” he commented as he continued to peer at the lens. “I can’t figure out how it could still be here otherwise. Though it saying the Master created it does give me some cause for concern.”

“Concern?” asked Jack raising an eyebrow suggestively. “We just sent that thing into the office with Rhys, and you have concerns?”

The Doctor sighed as he put his hand down and brought his attention to Jack. “Yes, concerns. I had thought the humans had transformed themselves to become Toclafane. But if the Master did it, they might not all be descended from humans. Some of them may have started out as life forms on other planets.”

“The paradox collapsing wouldn’t affect them then, would it?” said Jack.

“No, it wouldn’t. Any that were here before the paradox could have stayed even if they killed thousands of humans.” The Doctor tossed the lens in to the air and caught it. “But this is a high energy lens. It can focus more power than any material earth technology can produce at this time. I can’t imagine the Toclafane giving it up if it wasn’t sincere. It’s basically toothless now. Harmless unless it butts someone in the head.” He put the lens in his pocket and glanced at the haulage firm’s office. A heavy set woman was heading down the stairs.

“It looks like the coast is clear,” the Doctor observed. “Shall we go see what it wants?”

“What? You don’t know?”

“No, haven’t a clue,” replied the Doctor with a shake of his head as he started towards the office stairs. “It’s a puzzle. Why here? Why now? And most importantly, why me?”

“Just don’t let your curiosity get the better of you,” warned Jack. “You’re not exactly on your game right now.”

The Doctor stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to glare at Jack. “My game is just fine I’ll have you know. A few headaches are hardly enough to put me ‘off’ it. Now try not to kill our guest before he tells us his purpose in being here.” 

Before Jack could respond the Doctor turned his back on him and entered the office, cutting off any further discussion.


	16. Chapter 16

As he entered the trailer the Doctor realized yet another conflict was in full swing. The Toclafane was bobbing around nervously, while Ianto tried to appease a red-faced Rhys.

“Really sir, if you just calm down I’m sure Captain Harkness can take care of everything for you.” 

“How? Give me some Retcon? That’s not going to take care of two days of lost revenue and three canceled contracts because of this thing here.” Rhys emphasized his point by using the financial folder he was holding to take a swipe at the black sphere. The Toclafane dodged the attack and fled, seeking refuge behind the bemused Doctor.

“What’s going on here?” bellowed Jack, instantly getting their attention while the Doctor decided to remove himself from the conflict and help himself to some tea. 

“Jen told me three customers, THREE, including our biggest client, have called and canceled their contracts because we couldn’t make deliveries again. How am I supposed to make up for that?” Rhys complained.

“Look, just send Ianto the bills and he’ll make sure you get reimbursed for the two days and the repairs,” offered Jack. 

Rhys, however, was only slightly mollified. “That will help, but what about the future losses? That contract with Johnson is twenty percent of our business. We’re going to have to make some people redundant because of this. What do I tell them? Oh, sorry, two bloody aliens wanted to have a chat and neither one had a mobile?”

At the last, the Doctor looked up from his tea making. _Rhys knew he was an alien? How did that happen?_ thought the Doctor. He was going to have to talk to Jack about that. It wasn’t any big secret, but he didn’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry knowing. 

“You won’t have to tell them anything,” assured Jack. “Is it Rubin Johnson you have that contract with?” 

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” asked Rhys. 

“I know him, or rather knew him. I’ll square it with him. Give Ianto the names of the other two and we’ll see if we can persuade them to reconsider.”

“What are going to do?” Rhys asked suspiciously as he jotted the names down on a piece of paper and handed it to Ianto. 

Jack laughed. “Trust me and don’t even mention the cancelations to them. Just act like it never happened and keep to your schedule.”

“How am I supposed to do that when my entire fleet is disabled? We bought up practically every solenoid in town yesterday. I won’t be able to get any more here till tomorrow.” 

Ianto looked up from his mobile. “I’ve located a source. Your solenoids should be here within an hour, sir.”

“There, problem solved,” said Jack. He put his hand on Rhys’ shoulder and guided him towards the door. “Now, why don’t you treat Gwen to a nice lunch? When you get back your parts will be here.” 

Rhys looked back over his shoulder at the office. “But I shouldn’t leave. What if the boss calls?”

“Ianto will handle it, don’t worry,” said Jack as he gave Rhys a gentle shove out the door and closed it. 

“Well, that was nicely done,” observed the Doctor, tea in hand as he half sat on a table, the Toclafane still hiding behind him. 

“I thought some privacy was in order. Plus I don’t like putting civilians in harm’s way.”

“Since when?” 

“Since one of my team members married one. Shall we get on with it?”

“Oh, right,” the Doctor twisted around and addressed the Toclafane. “You can quit hiding now. He’s gone.”

The black sphere bobbed out from behind the Doctor. Jack took his gun out, keeping it at his side, ready if needed.

“Jack, put that away,” admonished the Doctor with an exasperated sigh. “Between you shooting at it and Rhys trying to hit it, it’s had more than enough provocation if its intent was to harm anyone. I’m amazed it’s still here.” 

The Doctor furrowed his brow at the Toclafane as the captain reluctantly holstered his weapon. “Why are you still here?” he asked the Toclafane. “You could have just popped out till everything calmed down.”

“Didn’t want to lose you. Need you.

“Yes, I gathered that, but for what?”

“To undo what he did. To change me back.”

“What he did? You said he made you. Are you human?” 

“I was. We all were. What he made us isn’t. He said we would be better. We could survive like another species had survived. Merge with machines. ”

“Daleks,” said the Doctor, his voice, flat, toneless. “He made you in the Daleks’ image.”

“Yes, that’s what he said. Like Daleks, only smaller, faster, better. Said we had to be changed so he could save us. Said that was why he called us all to Utopia, so he could get us all in one place and help us. He promised that if we let him change us, he would save us. Take us to where there the universe still lived. We agreed. We would have agreed to anything. We were all so scared, only he offered a plan, some hope. He didn’t tell us of the pain.”

“The pain from being changed?” asked the Doctor. He bit his lip as he remembered how painful being rapidly aged had been. The Master must have done something similar to the remaining humans. He remembered being shown one inside of the sphere that served as its home, its life support. Shrunken and shriveled as he had been, only worse.

“No, yes, it’s hard to know how to say. So long I had to talk like them to hide.”

“It’s alright, just take your time,” encouraged the Doctor. “Being transformed did hurt, right?”

“Yes, but that was just the start. He cut away at each of us. Removing what he said we didn’t need. We were blind, helpless, but we could feel it all, every cut that he made.”

“He made?” interrupted Jack. “You don’t expect us to believe the Master performed surgery on every Toclafane.”

“No, he didn’t, not directly. Once he would put someone in a sphere he had them help create others. His mind was always in ours. Being in here hurts, it always hurts. He told us to deal with the pain by hurting others like he did. They did it. They found it worked. Making others feel pain made them forget their own pain and soon they looked forward to hurting and killing. It made him happy when they did. With him in their minds they became happy when they did it.”

“And you didn’t enjoy hurting and killing like the rest of them? What made you special?” Jack asked accusingly. The Doctor frowned at him, letting his disapproval show, but it was the Toclafane that answered.

“I don’t know. His mind felt like a pressure to me, the insane rhythm he hears battering my mind. Making me want to be like the others, just give in. I didn’t want to, it felt like I was losing myself. Then the connection broke. I think a part of my sphere failed. I could hear the others, his spoken orders, but my mind was free. No beating rhythm, no thoughts, just words.”

“And the pain?” inquired the Doctor. “Did that go then?”

“No, it’s still here. I want you to take it away.”

“Why me?”

“You know things. The same things he did. You can help. Can’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll need to examine you. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” The Toclafane settled on the table and the sphere opened up revealing its shriveled occupant. The Doctor was shocked. This one was in much worse shape than the one the Master had shown him. Its eyes were totally clouded with cataracts, its skull was sunken in spots. It smelled of rot and death. He was amazed it was still alive. He put on his glasses and reached in his pocket for his sonic screwdriver only to remember it wasn’t there. 

“Captain?” he asked with a displeased raise of his eyebrow.

“Sure, here it is,” said Jack, placing the device in the Doctor’s outstretched hand. 

The Doctor started to examine the Toclafane. The humming of the sonic, the only sound in the room as he started to carefully trace all the sphere’s connections to the being within the sphere and then the being itself. It was telling the truth, The Toclafane were obviously the creation of the Master. The sphere was almost entirely Time Lord technology, no sign of the gluten protein strands Professor Yana had used. The Master had apparently made extensive use of the TARDIS’ stores and manufacturing capabilities. 

He shook his head at the perversion those resources had been used for. The pain the Toclafane felt must be incredible. It was totally dependent on the sphere for life support. It still had a heart and lungs, small, almost vestigial, still functioning, but totally inadequate to do the job of supplying oxygen to the brain or anywhere else. Calcium had been leeched from its bones leaving its skull soft and fragile. The other major organs were gone, their duties taken over by the sphere and every connection caused pain. Not just from carelessness, but with design of deliberate malice, as if the primary purpose had been torture and the life support functions had been an afterthought. 

The circuitry of the sphere was damaged in several places. Some of those failures accounted for the diminished physical condition. The circuits for the semi telepathic link both he and the Master had used had been destroyed, along with a component that would activate the pleasure areas of the brain, a means for the Master to reward them for obedience, no doubt. Cause pain and be rewarded with pleasure. That would fit the Master's way of thinking. The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he stared up at the ceiling. He had all the information he needed. 

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“He can’t fix me,” stated the Toclafane.

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t, he removed too much,” replied the Doctor. “You are too dependent on the machinery and even with it…” He hesitated, not wanting to be the bearer of even more bad news. 

“I don’t have long to live,” stated the Toclafane. 

“You already knew that?”

“Yes, and I didn’t think you could fix me.”

“Then why go through all this to get my attention if you knew there was nothing I could do?”

“Hoped I was wrong. Now I know. There is something you can do. Take me out. Please.”

“I can’t, you’ll die,” said the Doctor, hoping he was wrong about what the Toclafane wanted. He wasn’t.

“I know. I want to die free of this. You can take me out.”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, I won’t kill you.”

“I’ll kill it,” said Jack. Though his words were dire, there was compassion in his voice. 

“Jack, no!” protested the Doctor. “Don’t you realize what this is? The last human. The ones that were here when the paradox pulled them back had only one, maybe two months before the universe ended. This is literally the last of the line. Its life shouldn’t be ended early.” 

“This isn’t life. I’m being forced to continue past when I should be dead. Humans don’t live as a part of a machine, a prisoner of it. I want to die as I was born. A human. I’m not asking you to kill me. I’m asking you to let me die.”

The Doctor stared at the creature. It was right, it wasn’t human, not as it was. Far more metal than flesh. In constant pain from the very connections that kept it alive. No comfort, only cold metal against its skin. Would he be killing it if he removed it from the sphere or would he be letting it be human again before it died? 

He looked over at Jack who was watching him carefully. “Doctor, humans have a right to say no more. To end their own treatment, even if it will result in their death. Isn’t this the same thing? I’ll do it if you won’t, but I don’t have your skill and I doubt it would still be alive by the time I freed it.”

The Doctor bit his lower lip as he considered what to do. He realized he had already made up his mind when he found himself again scanning the sphere and its connections to the human inside. He could do it. If he was very careful but quick, once free, the human would live for a few minutes. 

“Do you still have your natural hearing?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes.”

The Doctor looked around at the office. This is not where he would want to spend his last minutes. The last human deserved something better. “Jack, is there a private sea cliff or beach we can use?”

“Ianto, see what you can find. Somewhere where the sun might actually be out,” Jack called out to his aide. He then spoke quietly to the Doctor. “So, you are going to help it after all?” 

“Yes, I’ll help it,” the Doctor said reluctantly. He then asked the Toclafane, “What is your name by the way? It’s not really proper we keep calling you it.”

“None, it’s gone, forgotten. Even if I remembered it, it would mean nothing. ‘It’ is fine.”

The Doctor was about to argue the point, insist that it had to have a name, then stopped himself. No, ‘it’ was somehow fitting. The last representative of the human race shouldn’t have a name. Nothing to imply that any one branch, race or even sex had survived longer than another. This way, all of humanity was represented at the end. 

“Alright, let’s get this done before I start thinking clearly and change my mind,” the Doctor sighed as he rubbed his head, wishing he could give this chore to someone else.

“You should do it,” Jack told him. “You’ve been shepherding humans for so long, it’s only fitting that you help ease the death of the last one.”

“Do we have a location yet?” asked the Doctor, bushing off Jack’s reassurances. 

“Yes sir, about thirty kilometers up the coast. It ought to be deserted and there is minimal cloud cover at this time,” responded Ianto.

“Thank you, can you show our friend?” 

“It’s up on the screen if it wants to come over here.”

The Toclafane closed up its sphere and hovered over to Ianto at the computer. “I know where that is. I meet you there,” it said, then disappeared. 

Jack held out his hand when the Doctor started to put the sonic screwdriver back in his pocket. “You’re kidding?” the Doctor protested. 

“Unfortunately not,” came the captain’s reply. “If we run into someone from MI5 I have to be able to produce it. That hasn’t changed.” 

“Sir, our agreement with MI5 also requires that he either have a two person escort or he be in handcuffs,” Ianto reminded him. “If you leave now…”

“We are not putting him in handcuffs,” insisted Jack. “Page Gwen, tell her to get someone back here to cover the phones. Have you squared things away with customers yet?”

“Yes, I did sir. They really didn’t want to change firms. They just wanted to express their displeasure. Apparently it got a bit out of hand when they talked to Jen. It didn’t take much to convince them to stay. A few promised bottles of scotch is all. Rubin says hello by the way.” 

“I knew he would see reason. He still drinking that single malt?”

“Yes sir, the others prefer blended,” Ianto replied with a wrinkle of his nose.

“No accounting for taste. Throw a couple of expensive cigars in for good measure, will you?”

“Already done sir.” 

The Doctor sat on the table lost in his thoughts as Jack and Ianto worked out the administrative details of setting everything right for the haulage firm. Even for him it had been a full day and it wasn’t even half over yet. Accused of murder and being asked to… There was something at the edge of his vision again. It took all of his control to not turn his head towards it. Instead, he decided to ignore it, see if he could draw it out. He looked at Jack and Ianto. They were deep in conversation and didn’t appear to notice anything. The presence started encroaching on his vision but still just at the edge, annoyingly not enough for him to figure out what it was. 

He waited patiently to see if it would reveal itself, hoping maybe he could get it to drop its guard. A knock at the door and it was gone. He wanted to scream in frustration but kept silent, not wanting to alert anyone that anything had happened.

Jack opened the door to reveal a breathless Jen standing on the stairs. “I got over here as soon as Rhys called. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine. We’ve just had something come up and need to leave,” explained Jack. “The lorry parts should be here any second and the customers that dropped you have changed their minds. So everything is great, right?”

Jen stood there blinking owlishly. “Yes, I guess so. But, what if it happens again?”

“It won’t, it won’t. Our outside consultant here made sure of that. Isn’t that right Doctor?”

“Yes, it’s all taken care of. Nothing to worry about,” responded the Doctor from his perch on the table. 

“See, like he said, nothing to worry about,” assured Jack as he propelled Jen to her seat. “We have to go now. Say hi to Rhys for us.” He then nodded to Ianto and the Doctor. “Come on, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

The Doctor resented the order but finding no real cause to protest, he pushed himself off the table and preceded Jack out the door. He set a good pace, determined to show Jack that no matter what show they had to put on for MI5, he, the Doctor, was the one who was in charge. 

As they passed by the Gallifreyan symbol etched in the fence he stopped and put his hand on it, lightly tracing the lines with his fingers. A reminder of home. It was amazing the Toclafane had known how to write it. Perhaps the brief time it had been connected with the Master’s mind had given it the ability, primitive though it was. 

“Do you want us to have that removed?” asked Jack.

 _“What?”_ thought the Doctor. _“I don’t want destroyed, what will most likely be the last time someone tried to communicate with me in my native language.”_

He gave the writing a final brush of his finger. “No, no. Just leave it,” replied the Doctor. “Give people something to ponder over.” The interruption over he continued to walk towards the SUV at a much slower pace than before, his goal of showing Jack who was boss by running him off his feet, forgotten.


	17. Chapter 17

The Doctor sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of the SUV, his elbow propped against the lower edge of the door window, cheek resting against his fist. His usual talent of being able to inject light hearted banter into any situation failed him as every word he thought of turned to dust in his mouth. Even though he wasn’t wearing handcuffs, he still felt like a prisoner. A prisoner on the way to his own execution, such was his dread of the task ahead of him. 

He studied the scenery as it went, by, trying not to think about what he was going to do. A chain link fence surrounded a factory, its car park in disrepair, weeds growing up through cracks in the pavement, obviously abandoned. A pasture over grown and empty, the gate near the road, off its hinges and lying broken on the ground. Boards where the windows should have been, another shop closed up because of the failing economy. But there was also new construction, foundations being laid, workers busy operating heavy equipment . They passed a well maintained farm, green pastures and fat sheep, tended by a shepherd and his black and white border collie. Signs of hope, recovery. That’s the way it was with humans, ever changing, as one thing fails and disappears, another inevitably takes its place. They always bounce back somehow. That’s why they survived to the end of the universe when so many other races had failed. 

The SUV lurched and bounced, breaking him out of his reverie, as Jack turned off onto a dirt track. Road was too grand a word for what they were driving down now. There was a steady thwack, thwack, thwack as grass that had grown up in between the twin ruts of the trail hit the front of the vehicle. The sound would have been irritating if it hadn’t signaled a guarantee of privacy when they reached their destination. Soon Jack stopped the SUV about five meters from the cliff edge. “Will this do?” he asked the Doctor. 

The Doctor stepped out of the vehicle and surveyed the area. There was the fresh sweet smell of grass mixed with the fishy, tangy smell of the sea below. He walked over to the cliff edge, the wet grass soaking his trainers and trouser cuffs. A quick glance over the edge let him know the tide was about to start going out. He smiled softly, excellent timing. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The sun was warm on his face. A gentle breeze blew through his hair and made a rustling sound in the long grass. A feast for the senses. The last human would get a good sample of its species’ planet of origin before it died. 

The sound of car doors closing jarred against the natural back drop of the site as Jack and Ianto both exited the vehicle. The Doctor looked over at them as they approached. “Well?” Jack asked. “Is this what you had in mind.”

“Yes, it should do just fine,” replied the Doctor. He turned his back on them, walked over to a large boulder and sat down, pulling his coat around him, not against the mild wind, but against what he was about to do. He scanned the sky, no sign of the Toclafane. _“Maybe it’s changed its mind,”_ he thought hopefully. 

Jack and Ianto were standing a good distance away from him, talking quietly amongst themselves. He appreciated them giving him some space, a bit of privacy. He stared out over the horizon as he mentally ran through the steps needed to remove the Toclafane. He was going to have to be quick and sure in his movements if it was to have any time alive, free from the sphere. But if he did it correctly it should be almost free of pain as it died, a vast improvement on what it had felt in life. At least he hoped it would be. 

_“If you euthanized the last of a species, at a time when the planet you were on was teaming with that species, were you still committing genocide?”_ he wondered. Not a paradox but a dilemma only made possible only by time travel. 

He was startled by a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re still alright with this aren’t you?” Jack asked. “I could try to do it if you want.”

“No, a Time Lord caused this, a Time Lord should end it. It’s my responsibility,” responded the Doctor. “I was just wondering if it is having second thoughts. I was expecting it to be waiting for us.”

“I doubt it would have changed its mind. I know a lot about death,” said Jack with a wry smile. “I would want to die free of that thing if it was me. More likely it got lost. Who knows if it can read a map or not.”

As if on cue the Toclafane rose over the edge of the cliff. The Doctor had a sinking feeling in his chest. He had thought maybe he was going to get a reprieve or at least a delay to another day. He ran his hand through his hair as he thought about how to start. The rock he was sitting on could serve as a platform for the procedure. He hoped the wind and tide would remain favorable for what he wanted to do. 

“Well Doctor, it looks like your patient has arrived,” observed Jack in a voice far more cheery than the Doctor felt was appropriate. He favored him with a look of scathing disapproval which the captain shrugged away. The Doctor decided to ignore him and addressed the Toclafane. 

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked.

“Yes, if I wait much longer I would die before you would be finished, right?”

“There’s no way to know that for sure, but I suspect you are correct,” the Doctor confirmed reluctantly.

“I’m ready then,” said the Toclafane. “What should I do?”

“Can you set down here on this rock?”

Instead of answering, the Toclafane settled on the boulder. There was a click and whoosh as it opened the sphere. It closed its eyes as the sunlight caressed its face. “Thank you,” it said to the Doctor. “This is better than the other place.”

The Doctor swallowed hard and said nothing. He looked over at Jack and held out his hand for the sonic screwdriver. Thankfully Jack gave it to him without comment. Taking a deep breath the Doctor started to work, carefully removing the connections that led to the damaged parts of the sphere first. He slid them out smoothly, one by one. There was a slight catch and the Toclafane flinched. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” apologized the Doctor. “It was an adhesion, I should have checked. I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, please continue,” pleaded the Toclafane.

The Doctor shook his head at his stupidity in not making sure the lead was free. Adhesions were an unwanted complication to an already difficult procedure. He was aware of Jack hovering over him ready to finish the task should he be unable to. His presence was comforting, an assurance that he was making the correct decision. It was also irritating, both that he needed that assurance and that Jack felt he might not be up to the job. He shoved those irrelevant thoughts from his mind, forcing himself into a clinical detachment from emotions. Soon he had removed the last of the non functioning connections. 

_“Now this is where things going to get difficult,”_ he thought with a sigh. The remaining connections were live. A few were sensory, or for communications, but the rest were life support, essential for its survival. As he disconnected them, it would start to die and the race would begin. In his mind he felt that if it lived beyond its removal from the sphere, he was freeing it, but if it died before he was successful he was killing it, guilty of murder. An artificial demarcation he knew, but still crucial to him in determining his own guilt. 

The sensory leads came out easily as did the communications, but on severing those connections something went wrong. The sphere started attacking its occupant giving it shocks and releasing a poison into the fluids that served as its blood. He started to reconnect what he had just removed, hoping the punishment to the writhing Toclafane would cease, but as his hand bushed it he heard it scream telepathically, _“No, don’t stop, free me.”_

The Doctor drove all emotions from his mind and worked quickly, abandoning his original plan that included the numbing of nerve endings and sealing of wounds, and just concentrated on removing all the connections before the Master’s vengeful design killed it with unspeakable agony. The last connection to be removed was the metallic plate that had been inserted in its face. If left a bloody gaping wound where its nose and mouth had once been, but it was free now and still. 

Holding his breath he carefully lifted it out of its prison. With relief he felt the feeble beating of its heart, the whispered gratitude of its mind. He stood up, cradling it in his hands as he shouldered past Jack on his way to the cliff edge. Its skin was soft, warm and velvety in his hands as he held it out to feel the sun. In its mind he felt gratitude, enjoyment and peace. A sharp contrast to the frantic beating of its, no not its, the human’s, heart. 

The Doctor felt that now, it was at last again a human, a person, not just a part in an insane machine. He felt the human’s pain as the heart beat faster and faster, woefully inadequate to the hopeless task of supplying oxygen to the brain. The lungs small, weak, barely able to expand. But it was enough to let the human breathe the fresh clean air, untainted by metal and filters. The Doctor felt the human’s wonder at the scents of the sea and the grass, at the sound of softly lapping waves below, the cries of the seabirds. He felt its sorrow at the choice that had allowed the creation of the living death that was a Toclafane. 

The heart was beating frantically now, like a hummingbird’s wings against the palm of his hand, then it stopped. There was a faint flutter, more felt than heard, as the lungs collapsed, releasing the pitiful amount of air that they held. The human's mind was still active, calm and accepting of its fate. Thanking the Doctor for this last bit of freedom as it sank into oblivion. Whether there would be the light the humans talked about, the Doctor didn’t know. He let the connection fade before the final moments. There were some things he was willing to wait till it was his own time to find out. 

There was a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them. “Is it over?” Jack asked with uncharacteristic respect. 

The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. “Yes, it’s done.” He then drew back his hand, brought it up over his head and flung the last human out over the cliff and into the ocean to be carried out by the receding tide. 

“What? What did you do that for!?” exclaimed Jack. 

“Your species evolved from the oceans here on this planet. It’s only fitting that the last human be returned to those oceans, don’t you think?” replied the Doctor his voice the epitome of reason. 

“But…”

“But what? You want to keep it in a jar in Torchwood? On display for gawking dignitaries for centuries to come?” 

“Well, it’s what we do. Not the gawking part, but we never know when something might come in handy. So we store it all,” explained Jack. 

“You have the sphere, you don’t need its former occupant,” stated the Doctor, ending the discussion. He knew part of his ire was caused by his fears for what may have happened to his brother’s remains in the alternate universe. He looked at his palms, damp, spotted with blood and other fluids that had seeped from the wounds of the last human. Crouching down he wiped them off on the long coarse grass. He felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“Here you go sir,” said Ianto as he handed an alcohol wipe down to the Doctor.

“Oh, thank you,” said the Doctor, straightening up. He quickly finished cleaning his hands with it. He was about to stuff it in his pocket when Ianto retrieved it from him and put it back in its original packet. The Doctor walked over to the sphere, picked up his sonic screwdriver and closed the shell. 

“I’ll take that,” offered Ianto. For a second the Doctor thought the Welshman was talking about the sonic, but instead it was the sphere that was picked up. Relieved the Doctor started to put the screwdriver in his pocket only to be confronted by Jack’s outstretched hand. With a sigh he turned it over. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack started to explain.

“I know, just in case,” complained the Doctor. “You really think they are going to have a road block set up to check if I have possession of a sonic screwdriver?”

“No, but Frank has a habit of randomly bumping into people. It’s just safer this way,” explained Jack as they started towards the SUV. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

The Doctor shook his head as he entered the SUV. Again Jack was trying to nursemaid him. He pushed his irritation and turned his mind turned to the sphere secured in the back seat. His fingers practically itched to start taking it apart. He was thinking about what use he could put the components to, when suddenly it felt like a bolt of lightning had pierced the top of his skull. Another headache took hold as he suppressed a gasp. Through a fog of pain he stole a glance at Jack, who appeared not to have noticed.

 _“Good,”_ he thought and found even the unspoken word caused him to wince. He turned towards the window, hoping neither man with him in the vehicle would observe that his eyes were closed against the brightness of the sun. Since no one inquired as to his health, he felt the ruse had worked. Now if only he could get control of the pain before the vehicle stopped and he had to move again.


	18. Chapter 18

Dismay added to the Doctor’s pain as Jack pulled into a local pub a few kilometers outside of Cardiff. His headache was subsiding but he doubted a noisy pub atmosphere would allow that trend to continue. Pointing out that problem to Jack would mean he would have to admit to the problem in the first place and he didn’t want to do that. There was only so much mother hening a Time Lord should have to endure and he had pretty much reached his limit. 

Strangely, despite his increased aggravation, his headache continued to recede. _“Maybe it’s run its course,”_ he thought. _“That would be a rare blessing in an otherwise bleak day.”_

The car stopped and the Doctor quickly got out, making sure there was no solicitous and embarrassing scene of Jack or Ianto getting the door for him as if he was an invalid. Once outside of the vehicle, he scanned the sky. The sunlight was disappearing as the clouds again closed in. He doubted it would rain soon however. The car park was almost empty, just a few vehicles, one of which the Doctor thought he recognized from this morning. 

 

“You’ll like this place,” Jack was assuring him. “It’s got all that bubble and squeak, bangers and mash kind of food you like.”

 

“It doesn’t appear very popular,” the Doctor observed. 

“Well it’s almost one o’clock, a little late for lunch. Trust me, the food is good.”

“And I’m to trust you as to what constitutes good British food?” the Doctor asked as Ianto moved to get the door for the two of them.

“No, probably not,” replied Jack with a grimace. “But you can trust Ianto. He comes here all the time.”

“Really? I would have thought with the way you work him he wouldn’t have time to eat out.”

“He lets me off occasionally to visit family. This place is on the way,” Ianto joked dryly as he let the door close behind him. 

Inside the odor of fried fish and chips assailed the Doctor’s nose. Once he got past that he could detect the rich smell of steak and kidney pie, bangers, and the sweet bitter scent of ale. His stomach flipped at the thought of eating any of those rich foods, adding to his discomfort. 

The pub itself was furnished in a traditional style. Heavy dark wood fixtures and molding, the chairs and tables were made out of similar material, thick and heavy, meant to last for decades, if not centuries. From the number of marks and gouges on them, perhaps they already had. The windows were stained glass, each one depicting a different coat of arms of a notable Welsh family. The sconces on the walls would have provided light for the dining area, had they been turned on. _“Another effect of the economy,”_ thought the Doctor. It was at least warm, a welcome relief from the cold outside. Warm and dark, just what he needed, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

The bar area was the one part of the pub that was well lit. The trio started to make their way to it, only to find their path blocked by a rather unpleasant individual.

“He’s supposed to be in your custody, not taking a tour of the town,” protested Frank as he stood between them and their goal.

“Hey, the pizza delivery was swamped. We’ve got to eat, don’t we?” retorted Jack with a shrug and a smile. “Besides, with you here to keep an eye on us, what can go wrong?”

Frank squinted his eyes and smiled slyly. “So, you admit he needs watching?”

Jack laughed, “No more than any of us do. Lighten up. He solved a problem for us this morning and deserves a break.”

“After what he did, that’s the last thing he deserves.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to protest only to have his foot stepped on by Ianto. Angrily he glanced at the Welshman and received a stern shake of the head. Apparently he was to continue to play the part of submissive prisoner. He quietly seethed from the silent reprimand, wanting to speak up. He calmed himself down by reminding himself that this was Jack’s territory after all, not his. “Not his territory,” he mulled over the phrase. He wanted so much to be back in the TARDIS. Being locked out of her made him feel a loss of freedom which was almost a physical pain. As that thought entered his brain he no longer had to try to act like a prisoner. Letting his current emotions show was more than adequate for the task. 

“Look, we’re here to eat,” Jack was saying. “So get out of our way and let us get our order in. Unlike you, we have work we need to get back to and before you ask,” Jack took the sonic screwdriver from out of his coat pocket and gave it a flip in the air, “I do still have it, so there, satisfied?” Frank scowled but said nothing in reply. Jack having made his point continued, “Now why don’t you go finish your lunch? I suspect you have a few messages waiting for you back at the office.” 

“Why? What have you done now?” Frank asked sharply.

“Nothing Frank, just a little interagency cooperation is all,” replied Jack with a smile. He clapped the Doctor on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s order some lunch shall we?”

Frank stood to one side and let them through. The Doctor could feel Frank’s scrutiny as he walked by. Then the feeling was gone, followed by the sound of the door to the pub slamming shut.

“Hmm, guess he had to go after all,” observed Jack dryly as he looked over his shoulder at the door. “I hope it wasn’t anything I said.”

“No sir, you were the height of decorum. I sure he had a meeting he forgot about,” replied Ianto. “Did you know he was here?”

“Of course, saw his car in the car park. I figured it was a good opportunity to show him we were playing by the rules. Makes it more difficult for him to cause trouble for us.”

The Doctor pretended to ignore the exchange and studied the menu. He tried to place his order only to have the bartender address Jack instead. “What’s he done?” he asked worriedly, indicating the Doctor with his chin. 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Jack assured him. “He just got caught up in government snafu and I’m supposed to keep an eye on him until we get the paperwork straightened out. Frank’s just making a big deal out of nothing. You know how it goes.” 

“Do I ever. Taxes are eating me alive and don’t get anything for it that I can tell. Tried to get a permit to expand the dining area, after six months they’re still getting me for this fee or that survey. Of course now with this economy they’ve created it’s probably just as well I haven’t gotten the permit. I’d have more tables with no one in them. No sense in that.” He faced the Doctor. “You have my sympathy. If you’re having to wait on the government, I guess you’re going to be spending the next decade with Jack here. So what would you like to order? We’ve got some nice roast beef and Yorkshire pudding if you want.”

“I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have some tea and a salad,” said the Doctor. 

Jack however had other ideas. “You need more than that,” he insisted. “At least try the shepherd’s pie. This place is known for it.” 

The Doctor ignored Jack’s suggestion. “A salad is just fine,” he confirmed with the bartender. 

“I’ll have a ploughman’s lunch, shepherd’s pie and some ginger beer,” ordered Jack with a smile. 

“I hope you’re hungry. Because I am not eating the shepherd’s pie,” stated the Doctor. “No offence,” he added belatedly to the bartender. “I’m sure it’s fantastic.” The bartender nodded in understanding but Jack was not to be deterred in his objective. 

“That’s fine, you can have the ploughman’s lunch then. Though as cold as you have been feeling I would have thought you would want something warm.”

The Doctor just rolled his eyes and said nothing as Ianto put in his order, making the bartender happy by asking for the roast beef. 

“What is this fascination you have with feeding me?” the Doctor asked once they were seated at a table “I’m beginning to feel like one of those children in that fairy tale, getting fattened up before I get shoved into an oven.”

Jack leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his gaze intent on the Doctor. “Look you’re in my custody. That means not only do I have to know where you are, it also puts me in charge of your welfare, including your health. You need food just as much as we do, don’t try and pretend you don’t.” Jack took a breath and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head before continuing, “Besides, you don’t want your stomach grumbling when you question the ambassador, do you?”

“What, you’ve already arranged that?” responded the Doctor eagerly, his irritation with Jack forgotten at the news. He felt a stab of pain above his left temple but ignored it. “When? How?”

“Ianto,” replied Jack proudly. “He’s been working his smart phone like mad. That MP pulled the necessary strings. Once we finish here and get you back to Torchwood, I’m going to go pick him up from MI5.” 

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” exclaimed the Doctor, thrilled that maybe now he could get to the bottom of the Atterian’s death. Their food arrived and he took the ploughman’s lunch along with his salad without complaint, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the chutney before continuing. “So, MI5 is going to let him come to Torchwood then?” he asked as he bit into the bread.

Ianto smirked as Jack drawled his reply. “Well, 'let' is hardly the correct term. They really don’t have a choice. The higher ups considered the participants and have decided the murder is a Torchwood matter. So long as we don’t appear biased in our investigation, they’ll let us have control.”

Jack’s self satisfied look faded as he continued. “Unfortunately that means you are going to have to continue to play the prisoner. Officially you are still a suspect. The prime suspect, as far as MI5 is concerned.” 

“And you?” the Doctor asked, wondering if there was more than the stated reason for Jack being so diligent in taking the sonic screwdriver from him. 

“I know you didn’t do it,” assured Jack with a shake of his head. “Though I would like to know why she was so scared of you.”

The Doctor shook his head. “So would I. You heard everything we said to each other. I did wave to her from across the lobby but that’s hardly threatening, unless I accidentally hit upon some Atterian death gesture.”

Jack frowned. “Unfortunately, it really doesn’t look good. The desk clerk and a few others saw her reaction to that wave. It gives some credence to the ambassador’s story. Well, if you are willing to believe his whole ‘I was taken over’ act.”

“I believe him,” asserted the Doctor. “I don’t think he killed her. I mean yes, it was his body but I doubt he had control of it. The look he had in his eyes this morning. I don’t believe that was guile.”

“You’re too trusting,” countered Jack. “He’s an ambassador. It’s his job to show one thing on his face while another is in his mind.”

“I’m hardly gullible. I saw through you easily enough, didn’t I?” replied the Doctor. 

“Yeah but… Never mind. What is it you plan on asking him anyway?” 

“Well…” the Doctor grimaced before continuing on. “I was hoping he would trust me enough to let me look into his mind. See if what took him over left any traces I can identify.”

Jack shook his head and smiled. “Boy, you really are an optimist aren’t you? If you are right and it wasn’t an act I doubt he is going to want to be in the same room with you, much less let you do that. And if I’m right and it is an act, he’s hardly going to want you to know that. It’s going to have to be by force.”

“No, it won’t be. I won’t do that. I’ll just have to convince him he wants me to do it. That it’s the only way to find Celeste’s real murderer.”

“I should point out that you first have to convince him that it isn’t you,” said Jack. “And again, if he is lying…” Jack gave a wry smile and shrugged. 

“I know, but …” The Doctor stopped talking as a bevy of well dressed ladies entered the pub. They laid claim to a nearby table before going to the bar to place their orders. 

“We should continue this conversation elsewhere,” Jack suggested.

“You’re probably right,” said the Doctor distractedly. He was observing the group. Their brightly colored attire reminded him of a flower garden, a moving flower garden. It was a pleasant contrast to the darkness of the pub. Suddenly it was there again, just barely able to be seen. There wasn’t enough definition for him to determine what it was as it slowly encroached on his peripheral vision almost like a pressure. He pretended to ignore it and turned his attention to Jack and Ianto. Ianto was cutting his roast and Jack’s attention was on the newcomers to the bar. Neither one looking at him, unfortunately.

“Well, they seem harmless enough,” said Jack as he turned back to the Doctor. “I was worried Frank might have sent them.” He smiled. “But I don’t think he could have come up that many agents so quickly.” 

“That’s good to know,” responded the Doctor distractedly. He was puzzled. Jack must have been looking straight at it. It was gone now, but it had been there for a few seconds while Jack was looking at him. The bar wasn’t that dark, surely he had to have seen it. He frowned as Jack went back to eating. _“Why couldn’t Jack see it?”_ he thought. _“Was it not fully in this universe? Some mote of energy bleeding through that only he could see? But then I can’t see it either. Not really.”_ He bit his lip as he considered mentioning it to Jack. 

“Are you alright?” The Doctor saw a woman standing in front of him, friendly concern on her face. “Please excuse me, but I work at the local hospital and you seem to be in pain.”

“I’m fine, just a slight headache from thinking too hard. It’s nothing really,” the Doctor assured her. 

The woman glanced over her shoulder her friends who were talking and laughing as they waited for their food. “We’re not bothering you, are we?” 

“No, not at all,” he replied with a smile. “In fact I’m glad to see others are enjoying the food here.” To emphasize his point he dipped a piece of cheese into the mustard and bit into it. 

“Oh yes, it is quite good. A shame it’s so far out of the way. Have you tried the shepherd’s pie?”

“No, not yet. It’s my first time here. It seems to be highly recommended though.”

She frowned and shook her head. “You really should try it. Someone with your build should eat more than just a cold lunch.” 

“I’ll remember that, thank you,” responded the Doctor as he wondered if humans had somehow developed a genetic disposition to be concerned with his diet. 

“Well, enjoy the rest of your lunch. I should get back to my friends.” Before the Doctor could respond she had returned to her table.

“See, I’m not the only one who thinks you need to eat more,” said Jack. 

The Doctor just rolled his eyes in response before he picked up a slice of raw onion, slathered chutney on it and then dipped it into the mustard before taking a bite. 

“I can’t believe you ate that,” said Jack with a grimace.

“What?” replied the Doctor in all innocence as be proceeded to give a piece of lettuce from his salad the same treatment. “First you complain I’m not eating enough, now you complain when I do eat. Would you make up your mind?” 

“Alright you have a point. If making up nauseating combinations helps you to eat, I’m not going to object.”

“Good,” replied the Doctor, who actually wasn’t pleased Jack had given in so easily. 

He then proceeded to take a lump of sugar from a dish on the table, crumble it over a piece of celery and apply pepper liberally before putting it in his mouth. The result was more than even he could take calmly. He quickly reached for his tea to put out the fire in his mouth before he started coughing. It was bad enough his eyes were watering as he saw Jack suppress a bark of laughter. 

Game over, he decided to eat the rest of his meal more normally, though normally for him did entail heavy use of both the chutney and the mustard to the point that Ianto went to procure refills of both. 

Soon the meal was finished and they were back on their way to the Hub. The Doctor stared out the window as he thought about how to productively occupy himself this afternoon. Jack had explained it would take a while to pick up the ambassador from MI5 as there was sure to be an excessive amount of paperwork involved. He definitely wanted to give the energy extractor another look. He hoped his growing headache would start to recede soon. He had some delicate work ahead, both with the equipment and the ambassador. He needed a clear and pain free mind for both to be handled safely.


	19. Chapter 19

The trio entered the Hub, the Doctor carrying the Toclafane shell, examining it as he walked, while Jack and Ianto worked out some administrative details involving his custody. 

“Jack, the agreement was that we have at least two people watching him at all times,” Ianto explained. “I can just call Gwen in, it won’t take too long.”

“I don’t want to wait,” Jack protested. “It gives Frank too much time to figure out a way to stop the transfer. Besides, it wasn’t clear that we had to follow the same rules in our own HQ. It’s not like this is a public place, we can always claim he was in handcuffs here if they press the issue. Besides, we might need Gwen tonight to take a turn in the Doctor’s suite.”

The Doctor stopped in his tracks at the last sentence. “A turn in my what?” he asked incredulously. 

Jack sighed. “I was hoping I could avoid it. But it looks like one of us is going to have to spend the night in your suite. It’s part of the agreement.”

“What, I’m supposed to have someone standing over me while I sleep?”

“No, not that. They’ll be in the living area. Just until we get this straightened out,” explained Jack. “But we have to have someone from Torchwood there in the suite or else MI5 is going to insist on having at least one of their people there, instead of two of them outside of your door.”

The Doctor frowned, sensing Jack was holding something back. “Anything else you care to tell me?” he asked. 

Jack looked down at the floor briefly. “They put their monitors back in. You’re going to be on the MI5 hit parade tonight.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, pretending exasperation to cover up his frustration, and, if he was truly honest with himself, his fear. He had no idea what was going on when he slept, but he didn’t want someone with the animosity that Frank had towards him finding out before he did. “Can’t we just…”

“No, we can’t. If they ‘fail’ MI5 is hardly going to believe it was an accident and they’ll use it as evidence I can’t control you.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Controlling me?” asked the Doctor, his irritation increasing.

Jack laughed. “You, hardly, but I do have to keep up appearances so MI5 doesn’t realize that. I really need to go now and pick up the ambassador. If you need anything Ianto will get it for you.”

“Uh, Jack?”asked the Doctor as he held out his hand. “My sonic screwdriver? I need it for my work.”

Jack turned back to the Doctor and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I need to keep it with me.” He subconsciously put his hand on the breast pocket that contained it as if assuring himself it was still there. “MI5 is sure to ask me to produce it. You’ll have to make do with the tools we have here.”

“It will slow me down, but I’ll do what I can.” Disappointed, the Doctor started across the footbridge over the reservoir for the water tower as Jack gave Ianto some final instructions. Too late the Doctor felt the rush of air as Myfanwy dove and knocked him to the deck, cracking his elbow on the grating. The sphere rolled free towards the open water. He scrambled after it as Ianto’s and Jack’s foot falls rang out on the walkway. 

“Shoo, shoo, get away,” Jack yelled, waving his arms at the pteranodon, who was hovering over the Doctor as if daring him to stand up. The Doctor, oblivious to Jack’s rescue, reached for the sphere only to have it roll from under his finger tips as he touched it. Ianto stopped it with his foot, just as it was about to roll off the bridge into the water and picked it up. 

“Thank you,” said the Doctor as he sat himself cross legged on the bridge, catching his breath, wincing as he held his elbow. “I was afraid we were going to lose it there for a second. It’s probably waterproof, but I’d prefer not to test it.”

“Are you alright?” Jack asked. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Bruised my elbow is all. It will be alright in a bit.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what her problem is with you,” replied Jack as he helped the Doctor to his feet. “She’s due for a feeding soon. Maybe if you helped with that, let her associate you with food.”

“I think she already associates me with food. I’d rather not reinforce that,” replied the Doctor. He let his gaze go up the water tower where he saw Myfanwy circling lazily. His eye was drawn up even further to the lift platform. The TARDIS was just on the other side of that. Could she be affecting the pteranodon? Causing it to attack him? 

_“No, no,”_ he thought. _“She can’t be that angry with me. There must be another explanation for the attacks.”_ He continued to stare at the top of the water tower base, hoping he was right that the TARDIS wasn’t angry enough to want to harm him. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jack was asking. 

“Yes, definitely, I was just making certain your pet wasn’t coming for another run,” replied the Doctor dismissively. 

Jack looked up at Myfanwy who was placidly riding the air with only an occasional lazy flap of her wings. “I think she’s done for now. You should be safe from any further assaults.”

“Just the same, I’ll remove myself from tempting her any further and get started on this,” the Doctor stated as he took the Toclafane sphere from Ianto. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“It is going to be in one piece when you’re done with it?”

“At least one,” the Doctor replied cheekily, giving the sphere a little toss in the air before starting off towards the store room. He heard Jack giving instructions to Ianto to take care of him as he left. 

The storeroom was as he had left it the night before. The energy extractor still on the table, untouched. He set the Toclafane shell down next to it and took off his coat, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. His hand was halfway in his pocket before he remembered he didn’t have the sonic screwdriver. He shook his head and sighed as he made his way to a likely looking gun metal gray cabinet. A turn of the chrome handle on the cabinet door produced an unpleasant metal on metal screech but revealed a wealth of mundane tools. 

He pulled out a tool box and filled it with some implements and supplies off the shelves. “Oh you are a beauty,” he cooed when he saw a coil of high- energy conducting material. He’d been afraid he was going to be stuck with twenty first century wire and fiber optics. There were a few other surprises in the cabinet, a multi-probe that though primitive when compared with the sonic, was much better than the multi-meter he had originally thought he was going to be stuck with, a burnished metal box contained instruments that would allow him to have almost robotic precision when doing fine work.

Feeling much better about the implements he had to work with, he carried the toolbox back to the table. A tray of tea and biscuits was now on the table. Ianto had apparently slipped in while he was rummaging through the cabinet. It bothered him that he was so unaware of his surroundings as to not have noticed. He pushed the thoughts of self doubt aside and decided to enjoy what had been brought instead. A spot of tea before commencing to work was a good idea. Might clear his head a bit. 

Surprise hit him as he took a sip of the hot liquid and found it to have a hint of bitterness. He smiled wryly. Willow bark. Ianto had put willow bark in the tea. The Doctor’s attempts at camouflaging his pain had apparently been transparent. _“Well, no matter,”_ he thought, _“the willow bark does help.”_ This way he could avoid the humiliation of admitting he needed the analgesic. He continued to sip the tea, letting it ease the pain in his head as he started to work. 

The Toclafane shell was now cold and lifeless. He turned it over in his hands looking for a release mechanism. His search proved unsuccessful, forcing him to pry it open manually. He winced at the squeal of the locking mechanism as he broke it and regretted the lack of his sonic screwdriver, which forced him to work in such an inelegant manner. Fortunately none of the internal components had been damaged by the forced entry. 

The multi-probe proved adequate for his purposes. It allowed him to quickly locate several frangilizers, more than adequate for his needs. He also discovered several other components that were superior to the ones currently in the energy extractor. That wasn’t surprising, the Master always did like to have the best technology possible. He wanted everything he had to be as superior as he felt himself to be. 

The Doctor decided to start by removing the frangilizers. What should have been a simple task became complicated, not by the primitive tools he was forced to work with, but by his own body. His hands wouldn’t remain steady while he worked. They seemed to jerk of their own accord at precisely the wrong moment. His frustration was building as he broke four of the needed parts in succession, before he finally successfully extracted one intact. And that extraction was more by sheer luck than any skill on his part. A twitch of his hand had caused the component to be flipped into the air as it came free. He had quickly caught it with his other hand. 

He sat up and leaned against the back of the chair, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. The effort needed to remove the part had been far greater than it should have been. His neck and shoulders were cramped and painful, as if thin lines had been etched with acid in the very fibers of his muscles. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, breathing slowly and deeply as he stretched and kneaded the sore muscles. 

Feeling better, he opened his eyes and surveyed the table. There was an odd tightness in the muscles over his collarbone. He rubbed it absentmindedly to no effect as he looked down in disgust at the four broken components. One was all he needed, but two would have been better. He had hoped to put in a redundant circuit as a protection from future failures. He briefly considered trying to extract the two that remained in the shell and decided against it for now. The other more advanced components he had at first thought to use to upgrade the energy extractor would also have to wait. He just wasn’t up to the job at the moment. Best he just leave it and try working on something else. 

From somewhere deep inside him came a feeling of terrible wrongness at that last thought. He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go. For a reason he couldn’t understand he felt it was essential to fix the energy extractor, to not put it off. But how? That was the problem. There was so much he wanted to do to make it robust, a device he could rely on, but in the condition he was in now, that just wasn’t possible. He bit his lip as he considered what to do. He could, he reasoned, just install the frangilizer and tidy things up a bit. It would be functional but not as resilient as it needed to be. Operating it would be risky, the possibility of failure at a crucial time would be high, but… but… He shook his head there was no but, it was a recipe for disaster. 

With a resigned sigh, he picked up the frangilizer, almost dropping it as he felt a stab of pain, as if something sharp and hot had pierced his left eye, accompanied by a flash of brilliant white light. He closed his eyes against the light and the pain and with great trepidation reached up to touch the cheek bone below his left eye. Feeling no moisture, he gingerly walked his finger tips under his glasses, up to the eyelid, and felt the intact eyeball beneath it. Sighing with relief, he slowly opened the painful eye. He could see out of it but it was agonizing to do so. He shut that one and opened the other. 

Carefully he placed the frangilizer back on the table and reached out for the teapot. It was no longer warm but that didn’t matter. He poured the remains of the tea into his cup, shaking it to make he got every last drop. He downed it quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste which came to the fore now that the tea was cold. He massaged his temples as the willow bark started to ease the pain. Thankfully it was soon down to a tolerable level. With a shaking hand he picked up the frangilizer. A war of emotions raged within him. He felt it was vital he repair the energy extractor and he felt that to do so was fraught with danger. 

_“I could fix it, put it aside somewhere,”_ he reasoned. _“Make it look as if I had given up on it. I could fetch it back when the TARDIS is willing to let me in again. It will be safe there.”_ He chewed his lip as he thought about his compromise, wondering who he was compromising with. He shook his head, time to get on with the job. 

Having a plan seemed to help. The feeling of dread was still there but diminished. His hand was steady as he started to install the part. There was one twitch, but he sensed it coming and quickly snatched his hand away from the device, narrowly avoiding destroying another component in the extractor. Except for that one close call, it proved to be a simple process, he’d done his prep well. Even without the sonic screwdriver he was quickly finished. 

“Now, where to put it?” he thought. Looking around the room, he saw a shelf unit standing by itself in the back corner, its shelves almost over flowing with flotsam. Not alien devices from the rift, but typical Earth junk, broken power tools, junction boxes, coils of cable. Things people considered too good to throw out but in truth weren’t of much use. It was the perfect hiding place. He picked the energy extractor up and started towards the corner. 

Suddenly his whole body was shaking. He wanted to raise the device over his head and smash it on the floor, destroy it utterly. He found himself filled with irrational rage. _“No, no, this is idiotic,”_ he told himself. _“This isn’t evil, it’s just a tool. The good or bad was in how it was used.”_ He squeezed his eyes against the increasing pain in his head, took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. His eyes again open, he made his way to the back of the storeroom. 

His hands were trembling as he stood in front of his goal. Quickly he jammed the energy extractor in amongst coils of wire, pushing it until he felt it hit against the wall behind the shelf. The tremors left his body. The device was well and truly buried now. Safe until he could transfer it to the TARDIS. His eye caught on a label on the front of the shelf. J-12. Above it was J -11. Strange there were only six shelves. The labeling made no sense at all. But that didn’t matter, he knew where it was and no one else in Torchwood did. 

He breathed a sigh of relief. That problem was tabled for now or shelved, more literally. Looking around the room, nothing really stood out as to what his next project should be. Taking off his glasses and putting them in his pocket he decided to check and see how much longer Jack would be. 

 

Carefully he entered the office part of the hub, glancing upward to see where Myfanwy was. He smiled when he saw her slumbering on the platform of the lift. Most likely sleeping off the feeding Jack had mentioned. Not wanting to disturb the ancient reptile, the Doctor silently approached Ianto. The Welshman was concentrating on his screen, oblivious to the Doctor’s presence. When the Doctor was close enough to read it, he could see why. 

The TARDIS wasn’t helping him with understanding what was on the screen, but it was obviously a translation program. Specialized symbols for linguistics and phonetics scrolled across the monitor. Intrigued, he stood quietly and studied them. He raised his eyebrows when he realized what the problem was and spoke up.

“It’s time based,” he explained. “Quite unusual, not many languages are time dependent. I can only think of two or three myself. Let me have a listen, maybe I can help.”

Ianto whipped around in his chair, startled to see the Doctor, a brief look of horror on his blanched face before he regained his usual composure. “No, this really isn’t important. Just a pet project of mine, I wouldn’t want to waste your time with it.”

“Nonsense,” said the Doctor, his curiosity piqued as to what the Welshman might be hiding, “it would make for a nice change of pace for me.” Before Ianto could protest, he reached for the keyboard and quickly punched in a few commands. He stopped in shock as his own voice filled the room. 

The words were disjointed, fragments. He glanced sharply at Ianto whose face was now red with shame. This must be a recording of his utterances during the nightmares he’d been having. Apparently he’d missed a few of the monitoring devices. Jack was right, he was off his game. 

When Ianto reached to turn off the sound, the Doctor put out his hand to stop him. “No, no, I want to hear this,” he said. Ianto looked up at him out of the corner of his eye, almost cringing away from him. 

_“Yes, you should be concerned,”_ thought the Doctor as he saw the Welshman’s discomfort. _“I’m going to be having some very strong words with Jack when he gets back.”_ But he didn’t want to deal with that problem right now. Now he was concerned with the words coming over the speaker. Whatever he’d been dreaming, it wasn’t a normal nightmare. 

The words were fragments of sentences, a fall from a radio telescope antenna, a bite of a spider, a call for help he didn’t want to make. Death of a companion, of a wise old man, his own death, over and over, a lack of courage to touch the wires resulting in the destruction of the planet he loved. It was as if he was reliving in his dreams the worst parts of his life, one horrific moment right after the other, piling on top of each other, unable to make way for the next. 

Then the rhythm changed. Humans were frightened, frightened of the sky. _“The Sontarans?”_ he wondered silently. _“Why would he fixate on that in his nightmare?”_ Then it changed again. They were now also frightened of him. No, this couldn’t be his past. This was something his mind had created. Then he froze as he heard the words, spoken with his voice as they had been before. “Throw him out! Get rid of him! Cast him out! Into the sun!” The words that had been forced out his mouth, against his will, condemning him to death. It wasn’t the sky the humans had been afraid of but Skye, the woman possessed by the creature on the planet Midnight. The creature that had also taken control of him, paralyzing him as the humans had dragged him to the door, to be thrown out into the toxic radiation that blanketed the planet. 

A sharp, white hot pain in his stomach caused him to double over as the realization hit him. The creature may have been killed, but it had left a part of itself behind in him, like a seed. A seed which had been growing, getting stronger as it fed off his emotions. Now that he realized what it was, it was attacking him, trying to wrest control of his body, and indeed his mind, from him.

 

The creature inside him was a juvenile and wasn’t as strong as the fully mature one on Midnight. But it had an advantage that creature didn’t. On Midnight the Doctor had been new, unusual. It had to learn how to control both human and Time Lord and that control had been rudimentary at best. But this one had grown inside him. He was its native environment. An environment it had learned how to manipulate to meet his needs. 

 

Not content to feed on the natural emotions of the Doctor, it had taken to producing them. It had snacked on his confusion when it played with his vision. The pain it sent the Doctor to distract him evoked emotions of worry and frustration it could dine on. And then the nightmares. The Doctor’s mind was full of memories, guilt and fears. The creature had a wealth of raw material with which to create devastating nightmares that became a fabulous buffet of raw emotion that it could feast on. Growing ever stronger, preparing itself to take control of the body it occupied, while the Doctor became sicker and weaker. With the strength from the Doctor’s nightmares, it had found it could control the ambassador and kill the Atterian who had somehow seen it behind the Time Lord’s eyes. 

That feat, however, had weakened the creature. Unfortunately not as weak as the Doctor needed it to be, as pain continued to wrack his body. He reached out and grabbed on to Ianto’s shoulder for support. The Welshman was looking at him wide eyed, fear and concern battling for dominance on his face. 

“Holding cells,” gasped the Doctor. “You’ve got to put me in a holding cell.” The Doctor cried out in pain as the creature changed its attack, making him feel as if his head was in a vice. A vice equipped with sharp jagged nails tearing at the flesh of his scalp, piecing his skull.

“No, we have an infirmary,” Ianto insisted. “I’ll take you there.”

Frustrated beyond belief, the Doctor fought with the creature which was desperately trying to stop him from communicating. “No… no…” he managed to get out though the pain, “holding cell… Something’s…” He struggled for the breath he needed to get out the next words. “inside… it’s inside me… danger…” He screamed, feeling as if his spine had caught fire and dropped to the floor, on his hands and knees, wheezing as his throat closed up against the entry of air.

“I can’t,” Ianto protested. “Jack would be furious with me.” 

The Doctor squeezed his eyes against tears of both frustration and pain. It wasn’t fair. He was having to both fight this creature and the denseness of this human’s head. With considerable effort he forced his throat open. “A… cell… I’m not… sick… I’m invaded,” he managed to get out in a series of gasps before rolling onto his side, whimpering in pain. 

He felt Ianto start to pick him up and was horrified as he felt the creature prepare to leave him and enter easier prey. With a move he knew he would regret, he used his will to hold onto the creature and anchor it within him. The creature was struggling against his hold on it as he was struggling against its hold on him. As it fought to get free, it lessened its control of his body and with Ianto’s help he could stand.

Panting from the battle, he let Ianto half carry him down the stairs to the cells, trying not to think about where they were going and tip the creature off. It didn’t work. On the last step he howled in pain as his leg shattered, bone piercing the flesh of his calf, blood streaming down his leg soaking his sock. _“No, no,”_ he thought between desperate breaths, _“that’s not right. It’s just an illusion. I can ignore it.”_ Ianto’s voice entered his awareness. 

“Sir, are you alright?”

_“Of all the stupid questions,”_ he lamented silently, _“of course he wasn’t alright.”_ But he couldn’t afford to waste the energy a sarcastic response would have taken. It was more important he be secured.

“Just… get me… into a cell,” he answered, taking a step forward, feeling bone grind against bone, accompanied by the wet feel of more blood gushing down his leg as the creature used illusion to try to keep him from his goal. 

Ianto gently guided him to a cell. A transparent wall revealed a well made bed, sink and other facilities. No doubt prepared for the ambassador. But the Doctor saw another cell, its heavy metal door ajar. “No, here,” he insisted as he lunged out from Ianto’s supporting arm only to crash into the wall next to the door.

“No, Jack wouldn’t want you in that one,” Ianto insisted, again putting a supporting arm around the Doctor, trying to guide him to the first cell. “You’ll be more comfortable here.”

“No,” the Doctor persisted as he again made a lunge for the heavy metal door, this time making it to the opening, leaning heavily against the jamb. He saw the water cooled nozzles on the walls and floor of the cell before his vision went black. “You can… flash… this cell…”

“Yes, but why?”

The Doctor continued to lean against the jamb for support, rolling his body around it so he was now in the cell. His breaths ragged and desperate from the effort. “If… if… you see me… change… glow… look different… flash it.”

“but…”

“Just… do it!”

“Will Jack know what to do?” Ianto asked, worry and concern evident in his voice.

“Don’t… don’t let… Jack near… me. Not… till… it’s gone… It might… might jump… I can’t… can’t… hold it… much longer… ambassador might be… might be infected…” the Doctor felt himself getting weaker, this conversation was taking too much out of him. 

“But how do we get rid of it?” 

“Device… J-12…” The creature realized what the Doctor was trying to say and redoubled its attack. He dropped to his knees as one of his hearts was stopped. Desperately he crawled on his elbows and knees, towards the center of the cell. He heard the door close behind him mere seconds before he collapsed on the cold floor.


	20. Chapter 20

Ianto stood in the center of the corridor, staring at the cell door, wondering what to do next. If he did what the Doctor wanted he would be arming the cell, making it so with a single command from his mobile or computer the cell would be transformed in to a blast furnace, instantly raising the temperature inside to over 3000 degrees centigrade, more than enough to turn anything inside it to ash. It’s what he should be doing, but he wasn’t. _“Why?”_ he asked himself. Jack, was the ready answer. Jack would never forgive him if anything happened to his friend, the alien whom Ianto suspected was more important to Jack than he was. 

Though the cell door window glass was thick and warped he could still assess the alien’s condition. It was quiet now. Its eyes closed. Its face pale, with a light coating of sweat. The breathing was the important part, slow and shallow. It didn’t look like it was in any condition to fight him, it might even be unconscious. He ought to be able to move it to the infirmary. Medical restraints should be adequate and more comfortable. Ianto chewed on his lower lip as he considered his options. Then shook his head, there were no options. He had to move the Doctor to the infirmary. Jack would understand if the Doctor was there, he would never understand the Doctor being in this cell. 

Decision made, he acted quickly and opened the cell door. With a practiced stride that produced no noise he approached the alien. He crouched down next to it, preparing to pick it up when suddenly it moved, seizing his wrist with a bone crunching grip. Its smile too taut, too wide, eyes narrowed and beady, giving the face an unnatural feral appearance. Ianto realized it wasn’t the Doctor he was facing, but the creature that was inside him. 

Frantically he tried to pull free, but found himself frozen, unable to move. The alien pulled itself up to a sitting position, facing him, its toothy smile being becoming even broader. Ianto felt a darkness blanketing him as his vision faded. Then, just as he felt he was lost, he could see again and his body was his own. He was face to face with the alien now. That face, no longer smiling and feral, but desperate, with eyes wide. It was the Doctor, back in control. 

“Get… out… you fool!!” the Doctor gasped before clutching his head and screaming. 

Ianto need no further encouragement. He jumped up and ran out of the cell, slamming the door shut and locking it. He quickly lifted the safety cover and slammed the button that armed the cell with the heel of his hand, bruising it in the process. The cell was now fully operational. A look back inside showed the Doctor was in desperate straits. His breaths were deep and deliberate as he lay curled up on the floor, eyes shut tight as his hands still clutched his head, finger tips pressing into the top of it as if they were trying to gain purchase to rip open his skull. 

As Ianto looked on, the Doctor took in a huge breath, his hands falling from his head as he rolled over onto his back. Slowly the Doctor let out the breath, his face and body relaxed and was still, too still. Ianto was loath to enter the cell again, so he waited hoping for a sign of life from the Time Lord. He was about to give up, prepare to tell Jack his friend had perished when he saw the barest rise of the Doctor’s chest. The breathing was slow and shallow but definite. 

Relieved, Ianto stepped away from the door and checked his mobile for Jack’s status. The SUV was already parked in its usual spot and a code informed him Jack was bringing two guests, further bad news. He hurried to the Torchwood main entrance, trying to figure out how he was going to explain to the Torchwood leader what had happened.

 

Jack at that moment was furious with himself, his stupid tweaking of Frank’s nose at the pub was now costing him. With that advanced warning, the MI5 agent had been more than prepared for Jack’s arrival. The ambassador had been heavily sedated, making any chance of the Doctor interviewing him that evening unlikely. That was just a minor annoyance. Jack doubted they would be able to get to the bottom of the murder that night anyway. It was MI5’s insistence on a two man prisoner escort that was causing him heartburn.

He should have anticipated that requirement and picked up Gwen on the way. Even then the requirement wouldn’t have been so bad, if he’d been able to have a say in who the other escort would be. He’d seen a couple of good-looking agents he wouldn’t have minded chatting up during the trip and try to recruit away from MI5. But no such luck, it was Frank he was stuck with, and he was sure his motive for being the second escort wasn’t the safe transportation of ambassador as yet again the old man tripped, with Frank doing nothing to help but watch.

“Look, can’t you at least hold him up on your side?” complained Jack as the prisoner lurched hard against him, causing him to stagger and put a foot down in a deep puddle he had been trying to avoid. 

“Oh, you’re doing fine,” observed Frank cheerily. “I need to keep an eye out, make sure no one recognizes him.”

“No, fear of that, this getup you’ve got him in not even his own mother would recognize him,” declared Jack, referring to the water proof tweed fedora and oversized oil skin raincoat the old man was wearing. The rain made a drumming sound on the coat that reminded Jack of being out on bivouac during the First World War. The greasy industrial smell that emanated from it reinforced that effect. Jack had his arm around the ambassador’s waist, trying to make sure he had a grip on the man and not just the coat. A frigid stream of rain water was now running off the brim of the fedora onto back of Jack’s hand, making it ache from the cold. 

“Come on, can you stand up for a bit so I can get a better hold on you?” the captain asked of his charge. There was no answer and he didn’t expect one. That face that had seemed so confident and self-assured, now was blank, eyes unfocused, staring at nothing. The wrinkles that had made the ambassador appear distinguished and wise now just made him look old and worn out. To Jack it seemed as if he was escorting an empty husk. Despite the lack of response, he shifted his grip, giving his hand some relief. 

“There, that’s better now, not too much further,” Jack said encouragingly to his mute audience. He was beginning to feel sorry for him, looking so frail. _“Stop that,”_ he silently admonished himself. _“The Doctor will be giving him plenty of sympathy.”_ His job was to remember this frail old man might very well be a murderer and to remain on the alert, protect the Doctor, who seemed at this time to be especially vulnerable. If it had been up to Jack he would have let MI5 keep the ambassador not let him near his friend. But though the Doctor had tried to hide it, Jack had heard the desperation in his voice when he had asked if he could interview the accused official. No, the head of Torchwood was sure there was more to the Doctor’s request than just getting to the bottom of the murder. Maybe this man here was the key to what was wrong with the Doctor. 

The ambassador stumbled again, jarring Jack out his thoughts. “Why did you have to dope him up so much?” Jack griped to Frank. 

“It was necessary,” stated Frank. “He went into an absolute panic when we told him he was being transferred to Torchwood for the Doctor to interrogate. He was about to do injury to himself. We almost had to put him into a straight jacket.”

“You could have tried telling him the Doctor is on his side and wants to help him.”

Frank snorted. “Right, I wasn’t born yesterday and neither was he. That alien friend of yours is definitely up to something, and I doubt it is to help his accuser.” 

Jack just shook his head, glad that they were finally at the Torchwood entrance and he could rid himself of the MI5 pest. 

“Aren’t you going to open the door?” 

“No, can’t at this entrance. Ianto should be here in a moment,” lied Jack, not wanting Frank to even see how the lock worked. 

“What you can’t even get into your own base?” laughed Frank. “No wonder you have agents dropping like flies.” 

Jack’s response to that jib was aborted when Ianto opened the door. “You can leave now,” Jack told Frank coldly. “Ianto will take over for you.”

“No, I think I’ll stay awhile,” replied Frank as he stepped around Ianto, “at least until the sedative wears off. I don’t want you claiming he died in your custody because we overdosed him.” 

Jack shot Ianto a lethal look, surprised and upset the Welshman had failed to stop Frank’s entrance into the Hub. To his credit Ianto took the initiative and immediately relieved Jack of the ambassador, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the wet coat as he removed it from the swaying official. Disgusted, he hung it on a rack behind the reception counter, along with the dripping fedora. He quickly lunged to catch the old man whose knees had started to buckle. “Is he sick?” he asked. 

Jack shook his head. “No, he’s just heavily sedated. I could understand them giving him something to calm him down a bit, but this is overkill. I think they are just trying to interfere with our investigation.”

“Now, now. Would we do that?” asked Frank innocently. “We’ve been the very picture of cooperation.” 

“Yeah, cooperation,” said Jack. “You won’t even tell me what you gave him. It would be helpful if we could give him the antidote.”

“You have your trade secrets, we have ours.”

“Come on, let’s get him settled in,” Jack told Ianto. “Then we can tell the Doctor he’s going to have to wait till the morning to talk to him.” 

Ianto swallowed nervously at that last statement but said nothing as he helped the ambassador into the main part of the hub. Jack wondered what was going on to cause that reaction. He glanced over at Frank who appeared to have noticed anything amiss, but after being outfoxed by him this afternoon Jack wasn’t assuming anything. 

As he entered the hub he saw a red light was flashing on the wall above the entrance to the holding area. The sterilization cell was armed. He forced himself to stay calm. Not give Frank any other hints that something was amiss. This latest piece of information combined with Ianto being nervous at the mention of the Doctor was not good. He needed to get Frank out of the way so he could investigate what was going on. 

“Why don’t you go with Ianto and see if the ambassador’s accommodations meet with your approval?” Jack suggested amiably.

Frank’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scratched his chin while he looked around at the center of Torchwood operations. “No, no need for that. I’ll check on him later. I’d like you to give me a tour of this place. Show me what measures you have for the surveillance of your prisoners. As short staffed as you are, I need to make sure you are up to the job.”

Jack ignored the needling and decided to comply with the Frank’s request. “Sure,” he replied lightheartedly. “We can watch the cells from any one of the workstations. Come into my office. It’s easiest to show you there.” 

He showed Frank to his office. “You can have a seat here and watch on that screen on the wall,”Jack explained, pulling out a chair for Frank before taking his seat behind the desk. He punched in a few commands and a view of the ambassador’s cell came up on the screen on the wall in addition to the one on his desk. 

Ianto was preparing the man for bed. _“A good call on his part,”_ Jack thought. _“Let him sleep it off.”_ Given the state of the man he decided to have Gwen spend the night watch here. She could reassure the old man everything was fine if he came out of it in the middle of the night. Probably better than he could and she would stop Frank from feeding his fear. It meant he would be spending the night on the Doctor’s couch. He didn’t mind. He’d rather be the one watching over the Doctor anyway. 

“See nice hi res surveillance and…” explained Jack as he made a few mouse clicks causing several numbers appeared in red at the bottom of the screen, “we can even do basic medical monitoring from here.” 

“Only one view of the cell?” observed Frank. “That gives you some huge blind spots. I may have to…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” replied Jack trying to keep a hold of his temper. “See?” He made a few quick mouse clicks and the views from eight different cameras sprung up onto the screen. “All the views you could want, even under the bed and the corridor outside the cell.” 

Frank twisted his mouth as he scowled the screen. “Okay, so you have the video covered. What about the audio?” 

“On and recording,” said Jack as he performed another mouse click and the sounds of the cell became audible. “We can also set it so there is an alarm if the sound goes over a set level. And there are motion detectors to let us know if there is too much activity in the room or not enough.”

“Is the door alarmed?”

Jack bit back the sarcastic reply that sprung to his mind, well aware Frank was trying to get a rise out of him. “Yes, both the door and the entrance to the cell block itself. In fact every Torchwood member has a mobile device that allows them to look up the status of each of the cells.”

Frank raised an eyebrow at that last statement and Jack feared he had said too much. He was right. “I’ll be needing one of those while the ambassador is here,” the MI5 agent stated. 

“No, you won’t. The ambassador is in our custody, not yours. It’s only out of professional courtesy that I’m allowing you to stay here until what you gave him wears off.” Jack hesitated for an instant before continuing. “That and your group may very well have messed up the dosage, since you won’t tell us what it is, it will be your job to sort him out if they did.” 

Frank smiled. “Well, since I am going to be here a while, care to direct me to the mess hall?” 

Jack waved his hand in the general direction of the coffee mess visible through the window of his office. “You can get some tea or coffee over there. There might be a few left over biscuits if you’re hungry. Ianto can order you some take away when he gets back here.”

Frank looked like he was about to protest but instead scowled and turned to leave the office.

“Oh, and clean up after yourself,” Jack called out to him. The captain smiled when he got no response. 

Free of the pest for the moment, Jack decided to check out what was in the sterilization cell. He quickly brought up the surveillance feeds for the cell. His mouth went dry when he saw what was on the screen. The Doctor lying in the middle of the cell, curled up on his side. If he was reading the medical feeds correctly his friend was in distress. His hearts beating too rapidly, his breathing too quick and shallow. He jumped up to go to him, only to run straight into Frank who was staring at the monitor on the wall. The monitor that Jack, in his haste to find out what was going on, had forgotten to turn off. 

“So, looks like someone in your organization understands how dangerous he is.” Frank pushed over to Jack’s keyboard. Showing his earlier ignorance of the monitoring system had been a ruse as he punched up the details on the cell. “Ah, very nice,” he almost purred as he used the mouse to circle a blinking icon. “Just a single click, the menace is fried and the ambassador can go home.” 

Before he even realized he was going to do it Jack delivered an uppercut to Frank’s jaw, closing it with an audible clack, dropping him where he stood. The captain tried to disarm the cell and found he couldn’t from his computer. An upgrade they had never made. He ran towards the door of the office, wanting to get his friend out of there as quickly as possible, but Ianto blocked the office doorway. 

“Clean up that mess,” growled Jack indicating the fallen member of MI5 as he started to shoulder past Ianto. “I’ll deal with you later.” 

Ianto grabbed the captain’s arm, preventing him from going any further. “No Jack, you can’t. He said not to let you near him.”

“What do you mean he said not to let me near him? What did you do to him?” Jack’s emotions warred with his training. He wanted to get to the Doctor, but he needed intel to make sure he was executing the right course of action. Right now he wasn’t sure Ianto was the best source of that intel, but he had no other choice. 

“I didn’t do anything. There’s something wrong with him. He was scared, Jack, really scared.” 

“What happened? Why is he in that cell?” barked Jack, losing his patience with the Welshman. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Ianto replied keeping his voice calm but unable to hide the desperation he felt. “He was fine and then he was doubled over in pain. He…”

“If he was in pain, he should be in the infirmary,” interrupted Jack. “He’s sick, not dangerous.” 

“I tried to take him there, he wouldn’t go. He insisted he be put in a holding cell. He said he wasn’t sick, he was invaded and I believe him. There’s something inside him. I knew you wouldn’t like the cell he was in. I thought he was unconscious and tried to move him. He grabbed my wrist, only it wasn’t him. I could feel it inside me. I couldn’t move. Then it was gone. I was free and he told me to leave. He saved me Jack.”

“And you repay him by arming the cell? What were you thinking?” A groan interrupted any response Ianto might have had. Jack turned to see Frank getting up from the floor rubbing his jaw. 

“What’d you do that for?” Frank asked. “I was only having a bit of a joke.”

“It’s not a joke where the safety of our consultant is concerned. You’re under arrest. Ianto, put him in a cell. I’ll deal with him later.” 

“I’m what? What’s the charge?” protested Frank. 

“Interfering with the course of an investigation. Endangering the life of a Torchwood employee. Give me time and I’ll add a few more to the list.” Jack pulled out his gun and pointed it at the MI5 agent. “Now are you going to go quietly or do I need to use this?”

On Jack’s order Ianto had moved next to Frank. “Sir, he’s carrying a few items that I would advise we remove before he’s put in a cell.” 

“Do it,” said Jack motioning with his gun for Frank to raise his hands. 

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Frank threatened as he folded his hands on top of his head. “You’re going to be in more trouble than you can imagine.”

Jack smiled. “I appreciate your concern. Get him out of here Ianto. If he gives you any trouble, put him in with the weevils.”

“Yes sir,” replied Ianto as he hustled the MI5 agent out of the office. Jack admired his technique. His boy had been practicing. Frank didn’t stand a chance against him. His thoughts sobered when he saw the Doctor on the screen. He wanted to go to him but he couldn’t risk it, not until he knew more. He pulled up the video record for the holding area corridor, quickly finding the segment that showed Ianto and the Doctor entering it. 

The record confirmed what Ianto had told him. It also showed the Doctor in pain and truly frightened, telling Ianto to flash the cell if there was any sign of his regenerating. Jack bit his lip at that. Whatever it was that had infected the Doctor, regeneration wouldn’t cure it. He wondered if even flashing the cell would destroy whatever was possessing the Doctor. 

He looked up to see Ianto standing in front of him a worried look on his face, like a dog expecting to get a beating. “I checked the video. Don’t worry. You did the right thing. This J-12, do you have any idea what he meant by it?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

“It’s important. Most likely it’s a designation for a star or a planet. Possibly where this thing inside him originated from. Check all the records, everything from both Torchwood and UNIT. Whatever you can find J-12, 12-J anything close to it all, check it all out.”

“Yes sir, what if we don’t find anything? Will we..?”

“No, we won’t. He has faith that we can figure this out. I’m not going to let him down. Now get to work. We don’t have any time to waste.”

Jack watched Ianto leave for his work station. He then turned his attention to the screen. The Doctor was lying on his back now, his eyes staring upward at nothing. His mouth was open as his chest heaved, each breath looking like a battle he was about to lose. “Come on Doctor, hang in there,” Jack pleaded quietly to the image on the screen. “I promise you, we are going to figure this out.”


	21. Chapter 21

The Doctor stood on the stained but polished concrete floor. The room he was in was brightly lit. Proper illumination for a lab. The walls, concrete block painted a pale brown tinged yellow, a depressing color. He made his way past the black- topped tables filled with instruments for dissection and tissue examination. His eye caught on a dull metal tray, or rather the contents of the tray. A pump for some being’s circulatory system. Four chambered like a human’s but not quite. The proportions were wrong. The arteries that would have provided nourishment to it, too small to do the job properly. A congenital deformity, hard to imagine its former owner had lived past childhood, although its size was that of an adult human’s. 

He continued on to the back of the lab where the exhibits were. Clear polymer tubes over six feet in height, with wide black bands at the top and bottom. The first contained a Slitheen, with its huge dark eyes and bulbous head. Next to it in a framed case was the skin of one of its human victims. The next tube contained a Sontaran, its helmet removed. Narrow lifeless eyes set in a head that grew directly up from the shoulders, no neck to speak of. Its armor had been cracked open like a lobster shell revealing the pale body beneath it. 

Filled with trepidation, the Doctor moved on past the Jathaa, and the Weevil, down to the end where the newest, most prominent display was. Inside was an all too familiar figure. Suspended in a pale blue liquid, impossibly thin, wearing nothing, not even for modesty, was his brother. His knees were slightly bent, his head down, eyes closed, hands floating free in front of him as if he was gesturing, trying to gather his thoughts for what he was going to say next. 

The Doctor’s eyes were drawn to two wide V-shaped wounds on his brother’s chest connected by a third vertical wound. All had been crudely stapled shut. There was puckering between the medical fasteners that allowed a view of the tissue under the skin. He’d been eviscerated. His organs were probably in some of the smaller jars scattered around the lab. His hand went unbidden to his face, his thumb and fingers pressing hard on his eye lids in a pinching motion that ended at the bridge of his nose, when he realized whose heart it was in the dissection tray. Taking his hand away from his face he extended it, first lightly touching the cold, smooth, surface of the container with his fingertips, then continuing to extend his arm until his palm rested on it. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the clear material, wishing there was some way he could reach his brother. Tell him of his regret, his sorrow, his guilt that he had come to such an end. His brother should have had a full life, not the pitifully short one he had endured. It pained him to see his brother’s remains treated in such a manner. Even the humans’ custom of burying them in the dirt to rot was better than this. Pete should have given him that at least. 

He shook his head as he pushed away from the container with a soft sigh. A waste, such an incredible, stupid waste. Something caught his eye in the corner of the room when he turned from his brother’s container. There was a body on the floor. All he could see from where he stood were trainer clad feet, and jean clad lower legs sticking out from behind one of the tables. His throat tightened as he approached, and found his worst fears had been realized. Brown lifeless eyes stared up at him from beneath blonde hair. Crushing remorse and sorrow descended on him, it was his fault, he was to blame for this also. Then he saw the ragged gash on her throat. A pool of blood forming beside her. Wounds he had seen before. _“No, no, no, this isn’t right, it can’t be,”_ he thought. _“This isn’t how Rose died. She felt no pain. There was no wound. No body remained.”_

None of this was real, he now understood that and mentally pushed against the vision before him, shattering it like glass, broken shards flying out and away, reality taking its place. He lay on his back on the concrete floor in the cell in Torchwood. It was cold and sucking heat from his body through his thin suit. Pain stabbed at him from shoulder blades pressed too long against its hard surface. Slowly he rolled over on his side to get some relief and saw a small tray with sandwiches next to the door of cell. A stupid risk on Ianto’s part or maybe Jack’s, he didn’t know. 

Quickly he checked to make sure that the creature was still fully within him. When it had attacked Ianto he’d entwined his life energy with the creature's to hold it inside him, prevent it from attacking and infecting anyone else. To his relief the creature was still trapped. The distraction of the illusion hadn’t weakened his hold on it. He’d tried to set it up so that his life energy would continue to imprison the creature even if he lost consciousness. There was no way of knowing if it would work until it was tested. 

Getting free, however, was not the creature’s reason for the illusion. No, the reason for that was simple. It had been feasting on the delicious anguish it could create within the Doctor from his own memories and fears. Its greed had caused it to press its luck and try to play off his feelings for Rose by having the Atterian’s wounds appear on her to create a stronger emotion. A better feed. It had backfired. That impossibility had caused the Doctor to understand what was happening and wrest himself free of the vision the creature had created, but the damage was done. It was stronger after the feed and the Doctor was weaker. 

The creature didn’t care anymore if the Doctor held it prisoner. No, it embraced the life force it was in intimate contact with, trying to draw the energy into itself, make it its own. The Doctor fought to prevent that merging, desperately trying to keep his energy separate but still maintain the hold. He felt the creature surge with power as it fed off that desperation. _“No,”_ he thought _“this won’t do.”_ He had to relax his mind, detach his emotions from the battle he was in. 

Coolly, logically, he worked on the problem of keeping his grip on the creature but not merging with it. He found some areas where it had started to absorb his life force. His only choice was to sever the parts that had been absorbed and shield the rest. He visualized that shield as a glowing silvery white sheath coating the core of who he was, allowing him to weave his life force further around the creature’s, holding it, but not touching it. Calm relief washed over him as the technique worked better than he thought it would. For a moment.

Pain, searing pain, as if white hot razor blades had been poured down his spinal cord ravaged his mind. And he saw why escape was no longer on the creature’s mind. No, what it wanted was a regeneration. It had tasted that energy before, knew it, understood it, and was sure it could control it. 

It was the partial regeneration that had woken up the creature, quickened it from an embryonic state into a juvenile capable of exploring its new environment, the Doctor, learning how to manipulate him with a stab of pain, a tweak of a sensory system, an insertion of a thought or emotion. Observing his reactions to each stimulus, testing to see if different combinations produced the desired results. Striving towards controlling him, like a skilled rider controls a well-trained horse, invisibly, with minimum effort. 

It had been pleased with its success, until it started working on suppressing the Doctor’s own thoughts, and replacing them with its own. A difficult task as pesky subconscious thoughts kept leaking through. But even that problem had proved to be of benefit for the creature. The confusion it created in the Doctor, as his instincts fought with the creature’s imperatives, provided some tasty snacks. 

The Doctor saw all this now as he writhed on the floor in agony. The creature wanted the Doctor to see the hopelessness of his situation. That it was getting stronger, more skilled with every passing moment while the Doctor was getting weaker, closer to death or worse, surrender. The timing of this battle had been premature from the creature’s point of view. It had wanted to wait longer. Get stronger before openly taking on the Doctor, but now it knew delay had been unnecessary. It was more than up to the task, and the Doctor was doomed to lose. 

Casually the creature experimented with its prey. The Doctor felt his liver shut down, then his kidneys. His digestive system spasmed along its entire length, creating waves of agony. Then it played with an organ unique to Time Lords which functioned as a multidimensional inner ear giving him the ability to know exactly where and when he was. He felt as if he were falling, spinning out of control. He could feel the rough cell floor beneath his hands but he felt as if he was light years away in a time that hadn’t happened yet. He tried to focus on the door in front of him only to have his vision taken away. Then he felt as if his chest was going to explode as both his hearts started to fail. 

He should just give in, quit fighting. There was no hope for it. He crushed that thought, now able to recognize it as not his own. Through a fog of pain and confusion, the Doctor realized what he must do and concentrated on keeping his vital core, lungs, hearts and brain functioning. All else he abandoned to the creature. He felt metabolic toxins building up, creating a burning sensation throughout his body and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. 

Understanding what the creature truly wanted from him, he shut down his ability to regenerate. The creature, however, had made a concerted effort to study and understand that mechanism. The Doctor felt its triumphant joy as it demonstrated its knowledge and proficiency, turning the ability to regenerate back on, putting it under its control. There would be no escape from this in death for the Doctor. The only chance he had to block regeneration was to stay alive. He doubted that even flashing the cell would stop the creature. No, it would siphon off the regeneration energy for itself and jump before it was damaged, leaving the Doctor to die in flames. 

He saw the creature’s plan unfold before him, changed from its original goal of merely taking him over. All it wanted from him now was the regeneration energy. Energy it knew how to control in ways no Time Lord ever could. It would consume every bit of it. Use it to augment and strengthen its own abilities as it saw fit, then move on to an even more succulent target, Jack. 

Being human, Jack would be more easily controlled than a Time Lord. Being immortal, he provided a never ending life force, full of emotions and passions the creature could feed on through eternity. A never ending buffet. With Jack as a host, it could infect the other feeble humans with ease, taking over the primary sentient race of the planet. Use earth as its base of operations from which its species would spread throughout the galaxy. Too long had they been confined to a single planet. It was time to take their rightful place as rulers of the galaxy. 

Many humans would die, unable to tolerate its species’ presence for more than a few days. The creature saw that culling as good and necessary. It needed to breed strong humans, manipulate their DNA until they became the perfect hosts, filled with delicious raw emotions, and the physical strength to maintain them, but easily manipulated and controlled. Only the failing Doctor stood in its path. Knowing this he bore the pain the creature created within him. Telling himself that his skin wasn’t really blistering and pealing back from his body. His hands weren’t hopelessly mangled, a mass of broken bones and blood. None of that was real he told himself. Even if it was real, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he stay alive. Though every breath felt as if his chest was lifting an enormous weight, every beat of his hearts stabbed him with searing agony, he had to hold on. Trust that Jack would find the solution in time. Concentrating on that task, he failed to notice the small dark finger of doubt working its way through a crack in his shields, looking for fertile ground from which it could grow and destroy his resolve.


	22. Chapter 22

Jack looked up as activity on the monitor for the Doctor’s cell showed the Time Lord writhing on the floor. The medical read outs were so chaotic, it appeared as if the sensors themselves were failing. Sending his chair crashing to the floor the captain sprinted out of his office towards the holding cells. He was almost at the entrance when a body blow from the side knocked him off his feet. Rolling with the force of the blow, he expertly landed in a crouch and was about to jump at his attacker, only to have a fist slam into his jaw, knocking him back down to the floor. 

“Jack! Think!” Ianto pleaded, his voice sharp edged with desperation. “You can’t help him. You’ll only make it worse. He’ll try to protect you from it. He can’t afford to do that.”

Sitting on the floor, Jack was stunned by the blow as the words sank in. Words that contained the truth he didn’t want to accept. There was nothing he could do. His only thought had been to get to the cell, but then what? He had no idea. Jack’s throat was tight, his fists clenching and unclenching as he stared at one of the screens showing the Doctor’s cell. The Time Lord’s pain was obvious as he twisted on the floor, but so was his concentration. A distraction, like an idiot friend entering the cell could prove fatal. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the writhing stopped. The Doctor looked, well, not peaceful, but as least still. Eyes closed, breathing slow and measured. He’d won whatever skirmish he’d been in. Without saying a word, Jack pushed up from the floor and returned to his office, paying no attention to Ianto’s profuse apologies. 

Hours later Jack finished following yet another promising lead that turned out to be a dead end. The snap of the pencil he had forgotten he was holding startled him, as did the pain of the jagged edge piercing the palm of his hand. He stared at the injury, accessing the damage done. Just a minor cut, nothing more, but it did sting.

Leaning back in his chair he realized he had other damage that had set in during his fruitless search. His shoulders ached and his eyes felt like they had been rolled in sand, side effects from staring at the screen too long. He arched his back and rolled his shoulders, feeling them pop and snap as he stretched muscles and tendons that had been too long held in one position. Then he entwined his fingers and stretched his arms above his head, gasping with pain as his muscles protested. But it was a good pain and helped clear his head. 

As he dropped his hands back down to the desk, the back of his right one brushed against a cold coffee cup. He looked down and frowned. Ianto was slipping or maybe after the altercation he just didn’t want to risk entering the office. Jack sighed and picked the cup up, grateful that he took his coffee black, any milk or cream might have turned by now. Grimacing, he took a swig of the bitter liquid. Not the way he preferred his coffee but with all his time in the military he’d learned not to be picky about such things. That he even noticed it showed he was getting soft. 

“J-12, J-12,” he muttered, frustrated at the scant information the Doctor had left them with. When he had started searching the data in his vortex manipulator, his initial fear had been that he would find nothing referring to J-12. That turned out not to be the problem. Towns, planets, solar systems, quadrants, anything that could be mapped on a grid, had an area that was labeled J-12. Then there were the countless flats, office spaces and hotel rooms that had the number J-12. As a result, even though he had worked steadily throughout the night, he’d barely made a dent in all the innumerable references to J-12. But he had to keep working if he was going to find out what J-12 meant, and what the mysterious device was before the creature killed the Doctor or worse, Jack had to flash the cell and kill his friend himself.

That last thought startled him. Kill the Doctor? Could he? He glanced over to Ianto, visible through the glass wall of his office, hard at work at his station. No, it wasn’t a responsibility he could delegate to someone else either. If it was to be done, he had to be the one to do it. He was about to turn back to work when he stopped himself. This wasn’t the answer. There had to be a better way. 

Jack rubbed his jaw as he studied his monitor, stubble rough against his hand as he thought about the problem. The pain he felt as his hand rubbed over the bruise reminded him of his earlier stupidity. The view of the cell showed that the Doctor was quiet for now, he hadn’t moved for hours. His face was neither peaceful nor in distress, but instead exhibited signs of deep concentration, brow furrowed as if he was working on a problem he couldn’t solve. An expression that was at odds with what the medical readout showed. He was obviously in pain but was either blocking it or was so overwhelmed by the agony his nervous system had gone into overload and no longer registered it. 

“You stupid idiot,” whispered Jack, still staring at the monitor, not knowing if he was referring to the Doctor with his stiff necked pride that wouldn’t allow him to talk about whatever problems he was having, or himself, for not pressing his friend for the truth. Rashly he had trusted that the Doctor knew what he was doing, a big mistake on his part, possibly a fatal one for the Doctor. 

Jack shook himself, his mind was wandering. He needed to get back to the problem of how to narrow his search. The Doctor had been acting strange ever since he had been deposited in the Plass by the TARDIS. That was important. It didn’t start here. It had begun before the Doctor’s arrival. He’d brought whatever it was with him. He needed to find out where the Doctor had been recently. There were no companions with him when he arrived. No one he could question. When the Doctor had dropped Jack off in the park, Rose, his double and that redhead were with him. He couldn’t contact Rose or the double, but the redhead. Now that was a possibility. The Doctor had said she was back with her family. Donna that was her name, Donna Noble, best temp in Chiswick she had called herself. She would know. 

“Ianto,” he yelled as he ran out of his office, “get me Donna Noble’s phone number.”

“Donna Noble, sir?” Ianto asked, looking confused and concerned. 

“Yes, try Chiswick. She may be able to give us a clue as to what is wrong with the Doctor.” 

Ianto gave a quick nod of his head and turned to his terminal. “Yes sir, right away.”

Jack watched as Ianto’s eyes narrowed on his monitor and listened to the soft rhythmic clicking his fingers made as they flew over the keyboard. Excited and barely able to contain his impatience Jack waited. This was the answer. He held his breath when the sound of typing suddenly stopped. Ianto looked up. “I have it sir, I texted it to your mobile.”

“Great,” Jack said with relief as he tapped the number in the text message and heard his phone dial it. He was on the right track now. No more dead ends. Not only would Donna know where the Doctor had been, she was part Time Lord now. She had the Doctor’s intelligence, his knowledge. The DoctorDonna she’d called herself. She could solve this puzzle easily, all would be well. 

“Hello?” said the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

“Donna, it’s Jack. I need your help.”

“Jack… Jack who? I don’t know any Jack. Who gave you this number?” the voice was becoming high pitched with confusion and exasperation.

“Jack Harkness, you remember, Torchwood, the TARDIS.”

“What’s a…” the voice faltered and sounded pained, “TARDIS?”

“Donna, Donna honey…” said a new voice, older, male, distant, in the room with Donna, but not on the phone. “Give me the phone.”

“Gramps?” asked Donna her voice weak and thready, “What’s wrong, what’s a…”

“Donna just give me the phone and go lie down,” ordered Gramps gently.

“Okay Gramps,” replied Donna feebly. Jack waited as his hopes for an easy solution faded with the sound of Donna’s voice. He heard a door close and then “Gramps” was on the phone. His voice containing more anger and threat than Jack would have thought possible in an old man’s whisper. 

“Who are you? What do you want with my Donna?”

“I’m Captain Harkness,” explained Jack hoping his rank would get the old man’s respect and attention. A man his age should have had some military service.

“Well, beggin' your pardon Captain, but you need to leave my Donna alone. Don’t you go calling this number again, you hear me?”

“Sir, I need to talk to her. She was traveling with a friend of mine…”

“If you’re a friend of that Doctor, than you should know better. He erased her memory, he did. Said if she remembered, her mind would burn up. Now you leave her alone. Don’t go calling here again.” The line went dead. With a despondent sigh, Jack slowly sank into an empty office chair at the workstation next to Ianto, absentmindedly slipping his mobile back in his pocket. 

“No luck?” Ianto asked. His eyes and voice both full of concern.

“No… no… another dead end,” sighed Jack with a disappointed shake of his head. “The Doctor has apparently erased her memory.”

“We could try to restore it.” Ianto suggested hopefully. 

“No,” replied Jack. “It seems that would “burn up” her brain, whatever that means.” 

“Is there anyone else we can contact?”

“Not that I can think of.” Jack sat heavily in the chair and tried to gather his thoughts. _“Secrets, so many secrets surrounded the Doctor,”_ he thought morosely. His stared at the base of the water tower as he tried to decide what his next course of action should be. Mesmerized by the flow of the water, his gaze naturally sought out the source of its flow. 

Springing from his seat, he grabbed his coat and ran to the exit.

“Jack?” Ianto called after him. 

“The TARDIS, there has to be some record of where he’s been in there,” answered Jack as he opened the door. 

“But…” Ianto’s next words remained unheard as Jack dashed out of the Hub. When he reached the edge of the Plass, his hopes sank. There was a break in the weather, many people were taking advantage of it. But the central attraction of the Plass, the water tower, was being ignored by all. A gaggle of children with their teacher headed in its direction, only to veer away, back to the road they had come from. The TARDIS’ mood had not improved. Well, she had to change it now. She wouldn’t let the Doctor die, that was inconceivable. Taking a deep breath he steeled himself for the mental assault he was sure to experience, focused his mind on getting to the ship and set off swiftly towards the TARDIS. 

The next thing he knew he was studying the posters on the outside of the Millennium Centre. He turned and stared back across the Plass, his hands in his pockets, the wind off the bay playing with his hair. The coming storm matched his mood. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily girl,” he declared through gritted teeth as he forced his eyes to remain on the ship. It was physically painful to keep them there as the TARDIS fought to push them away, make him forget her existence. But pain was merely an old friend for a man who had died as many times as he had. This time he tried a new tack, slow, steady, determined, keeping the TARDIS in his sight and the reason for going there, the desperate state of the Doctor, in his mind, hoping she could somehow understand that message. 

The progress he made was slow as he crossed the Plass. Each time he lifted a foot it was only with extreme effort that he was able to put it down in front of him and not to one side or the other as he felt the TARDIS try to turn him. Finally, his head feeling as if it had been filled with sharp rocks, he was standing in front of the TARDIS door. 

“Good girl,” he whispered to the ship, feeling her cold surface beneath his hand. He stroked it as he had seen the Doctor do smearing the drops of rain that had started to fall, “now just let me get inside.” 

Slowly, he pulled out his key and put it in the lock and tried it. It wouldn’t turn. There was a metallic rattle as he jiggled it to get it to work. Nothing. “Could the Doctor have changed the lock?” he wondered. No, that wasn’t it. She wasn’t going to let him in. Not without a fight. Well he did have the ultimate door opener and she wouldn’t expect him to have it. He pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his coat pocket with a smirk on his face. 

“That’s alright,” drawled Jack, “you’re not the first to play hard to get.” He set the sonic, crudely, not having the finesse the Doctor had with it, but he felt his skills were sufficient for the task at hand. He had done repairs and modifications to the ship before after all, including a rather effective force field. Hand resting on the door of the TARDIS, he started to work on the lock, the sonic screwdriver humming. He held his breath as the lock started to turn. 

“Damm it!!” he yelled when a shock hit his palm. He shook his hand and frowned with narrowed eyes at the TARDIS door. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself before continuing. He wanted her assistance, not a fight. “Come on now, whatever he’s done to make you this angry, you can’t want him dead. And that’s what he is going to be if you don’t cooperate. So, just let me in, will you?” 

Hoping he’d made his case he tried the key again. He held his breath, hesitating for a moment as icy drops of rain formed on his hand. His hopes soared as he felt the cold metal turn in his hand. Then it stopped and would go no further. He tried turning it the other way and found it wouldn’t do that either. Pulling it out was unsuccessful, it was stuck. “Great, now the TARDIS had confiscated my key,” he thought. 

“Alright, we‘ll do it the hard way,” stated firmly Jack. He brought up the sonic holding it in both hands and aimed it at the lock, careful not to touch the TARDIS. 

Air came rushing into his lungs in a gigantic painful gulp as he sat up, accompanied by the all too familiar feel of having been dragged naked over glass shards, his face covered with cold wet rain. The TARDIS had killed him. Not that he stayed dead, but it still wasn’t an experience he enjoyed. 

“Jack, are you all right?” asked a familiar voice with a strong Welsh accent. He turned to see Gwen crouched next to him her face showing concern mixed with bemusement. “What are you doing here in the rain?”

“I thought I was getting into the TARDIS,” sighed Jack as he got up off the ground. “I wasn’t very successful. She raised some very strong objections. I even lost my key.”

“This key?” asked Gwen holding up a small nondescript brass key.

“Yes, that’s the one,” said Jack as he took the key from Gwen. “How did you get it out of the lock?”

“I didn’t, it was on the ground next to you. I thought it might be important.”

“It’s very important. Good thing you happened by, I might have missed it.” Jack glanced over at the TARDIS and found his gaze sharply directed away, almost as if he had been slapped. Gwen was studying him under hair that was dripping wet as the weather became almost as inhospitable as the Doctor’s ship.

“You sure you’re alright?” Gwen asked. 

“Yes, come on we’ve got work to do,” Jack said to Gwen as he started off towards the Hub.

“I know, I spent most of the morning checking out leads for Ianto.”

“What leads?” asked Jack asked sharply, wondering what Ianto was on to and why he hadn’t mentioned it to him.

“Nothing much, just having me visit apartments and offices around here. All with the designation J-12. Didn’t find anything. It would have helped if he could have told me what to look for other than something that didn’t belong.”

“It would help us all if we knew more than that,” replied Jack irritated that Gwen was pointing out the obvious. “There is a good chance whatever J-12 refers to isn’t even on this planet. Ianto filled you in on the Doctor, didn't he?”

“He briefed me.” Gwen hesitated before continuing, her voice soft, full of worry and sympathy. “It’s bad isn’t it?”

“It’s worse than bad. We have no idea what we are dealing with and we can’t even get close to the victim without making him worse. And…” Jack took a deep breath. “There’s a chance whatever it is can jump into someone else. Even reproduce, though I’m not sure how.”

“That’s why he’s in the sterilization cell isn’t it?”

“Yes, he put himself there. I first thought… maybe…” Jack shook his head not wanting to discuss with Gwen accusations he had hurled at Ianto. “Never mind, I wish we had more to go on.”

“I think you are going at this the wrong way.”

Jack stopped himself from snapping that he had already figured that out and waited for Gwen to continue. 

“If he’s as smart as you’ve said, wouldn’t he have given us an obvious clue? Why would he give us a clue about a place we can’t even get to? It should at least be on this planet and nearby I would think. Something close by that he believes we are familiar with. Perhaps something in the Hub itself.”

Jack was silent as he opened the door to the Hub. Gwen had a point. It made sense. The Hub, it had to be in the Hub. He raced ahead of Gwen. Ianto had been searching the Torchwood files, there might be something he might have missed.

“Ianto,” called Jack as he entered the main work area. “Did you find anything with J-12 in the Torchwood files? Something associated with this branch?” 

“Not much sir, a few apartments in Cardiff that had been under observation in the past, a couple of bin numbers in store rooms but we haven’t used that system here for some time.”

“Bin numbers, here?”

“Yes sir, the bins were just shelving units, the numbers were a way of identifying which one, but the store room that used that system was remodeled to make room for more holding cells and the lab. The back store room is used for larger items so they didn’t use a bin number system, just a grid, but it didn’t go up to J-12.”

“There are some shelves in the store room the Doctor was working in aren’t there?”

“Yes sir, but the inventory system…” Ianto stopped talking, a look of sudden enlightenment crossed his face, followed immediately by shame. “The labels are still on some of the shelves and cabinets,” he continued quietly. “We didn’t remove them. I’m sorry Jack. I should have…” 

Jack ignored the apology. He didn’t have time for such niceties or, more correctly, the Doctor didn’t. 

“Gwen, you come with me,” Jack ordered. “Ianto you stay here and monitor the Doctor’s condition. Let me know if it changes.” He left for the storage room before Ianto could reply. Gwen gave him a sympathetic shrug before turning to follow the captain.

Ianto watched them both leave, feeling inadequate, unfit for his job. He’d let Jack down. The critical piece of information had been found by him and he failed to recognize it for what it was. The Doctor had no way of knowing that system wasn’t in use any more, he would have thought that label meant something obvious. 

Turning to his computer Ianto went back to what he did best, taking care of things for Jack. Those little details that were often lost in the rush. A quick check of the cameras showed that Frank was safely asleep in his cell. He appeared to have eaten all of the breakfast Ianto had brought him. It brought an unexpected smile to the aide’s face. The MI5 agent should be out for the rest of the day. 

Checking on the ambassador, Ianto saw a situation that was not as ideal. The ambassador hadn’t touched his meal. He’d slept through the night and awoken when Ianto had entered the cell with his breakfast, but other than sitting up he hadn’t moved or spoken. It was as if there was nothing behind the old man’s eyes. Not much could be done about that now. The medical readings showed he wasn’t in any danger. “Most likely it is just grief,” Ianto thought.

Now for the Doctor’s cell, prominent on Ianto’s display. There had been no movement for hours, the Doctor’s face was a study of pained concentration. The medical readouts appeared stable. Ianto studied them, feeling he was again missing something. On a hunch he pulled up the reading from 4 hours ago. At first glance they appeared the same. The beating of his hearts was steady, as were the respirations. Not being medically trained, there really wasn’t much more he could tell from the various waveforms on the screen. He overlaid the older readout on the current one and froze at what he saw on the screen. 

The wave forms were similar but the amplitudes had changed. Though his hearts were beating steadily, the strength of those beats was diminished. The same was true of the respirations. There were other readouts that had changed. Brainwaves were diminished in some areas and increased in others. What that meant, he didn’t know. 

He pulled up a reading from two hours ago and added it to the overlay. The change from four hours ago to two hours ago was less than half what the change was from two hours to now. Not only was the Doctor getting worse, the rate at which his health was failing was accelerating.  
Even if Jack figured out how to get whatever it was out of the Doctor Ianto was sure he would need medical help if he was to survive. Not wanting to let Jack down again he checked the local UNIT roster to see who was available from their medical corps. The pickings were slim. There had been an outbreak of avian flu in the local command. Everyone was under quarantine. He would have to search farther afield. 

The London roster showed a welcome surprise. A medical doctor well versed in alien physiology was on leave, but available for emergencies. Hopefully they hadn’t strayed too far. He made the decision to call the person directly. He would work on getting permission from the UNIT commander in London once the doctor was on the way. Quickly he dialed the number on the roster. 

Fifty klicks east northeast of the hub, in the county of Monmouthshire just north of Chepstow, a mobile phone started to ring.


	23. Chapter 23

Martha was putting up a good front as they walked down the dusty gravel road between the shed rows on the backside of Chepstow Racecourse. The smell of hay and horse manure may be enjoyable for some, but her city educated nose found it acrid and unpleasant. She did a little skip step as she avoided a rather fragrant pile in her path. Close call there, she almost ruined her shoe. And today of all days she didn’t want to be the cause of a fuss. 

This was an important outing for Tom. His department head was leaving soon and Tom, along with several other doctors, was under consideration for the position. He’d already done his charity stint. It looked good on his CV, giving him a leg up on the competition who hadn’t realized the long term benefits of a few months of less pay and substandard conditions. But that was Tom, always thinking ten steps ahead.

He had so many plans for how he could make things better in the children’s ward. She agreed his goals were good but hated that the decision of who would get the job was based not on merit, but who could be the most political. And that was why they were on the backside of a track going to see the Dr. Marsh’s race horse Seasparrow. To prove he was the kind of man who could mix in wealthy company and bring in the kind of donations his posh private hospital needed. 

The gravel crunched under her feet as she thought about the label race horse. She had prepared herself for this outing by checking the horse’s history so she could talk intelligently about it and help Tom impress their host. Unfortunately the horse’s race record was filled with phrases like “dull effort”, “no threat” and “trailed throughout”. Not performances Martha imagined any horse owner would want to be reminded of. 

She studied the horses as they walked by. Most had their long heads out over the stall doors. Ears pricked forward, their soft brown eyes watching them as they walked by. She was amazed at how expressive they were and found herself ascribing emotions to each of them as she passed. Some were curious and friendly blowing at anyone who came close catching there scent. Others looked worried with wrinkled brows and an almost 'please let me know I did right' expression. Occasionally one would puff itself up, arch its neck, and snap at the air in warning to anyone who would encroach on its territory. 

One horse however, was quite unlike its neighbors’. Its head was almost resting on the top of the stall, eyes half closed, ears drooping off to the side, giving it a lazy, inattentive appearance. Looking for all the world like it could be hired out as a pony trekking mount, suitable for old grannies and young children. _“It must be one of the pony horses that leads the races horses on to the track,”_ thought Martha. _“It was hardly a fit race horse who could consume the track with ground eating strides and sail over the hurdles with ease.”_

She smiled at that last thought. She had looked up a video of one of Seasparrow’s races. There was what appeared to her to be an awkward jump. It must have been very awkward as the jockey was catapulted from the saddle rolling with the fall and quickly standing up. He was in no danger of being trampled as Seasparrow was last, as usual.

Seasparrow, instead of trying to catch up with his mates and continuing to run as Martha had seen other horses do when losing their rider, had taken a far more practical route. He pulled up, put his head down and proceeded to consume the course. Not with thundering ground eating strides, but with his teeth. 

“Hello there,” Dr. Marsh called out cheerily to the lopped eared horse breaking Martha out of her thoughts. “You ready to run today old boy?” The horse whickered in response, languidly lifting his head up with an economy of effort to greet his owner. The man absentmindedly patted the horse on the neck as he turned to address his entourage.

“I know he doesn’t look like much, but he’s got some great breeding. Same bloodlines as that American timber horse Saluter. That horse won the Virginia Gold cup six times in a row. Even retired the trophy. This guy is every bit as good as that horse, he just needs the right ride. And today I think he is going to have it. His trainer has found a new jockey who has been giving him some great workouts. The rest of the field won’t know what's hit them.” Dr. Marsh beamed as he spoke, his chest swelled up so much with pride that Martha was sure the buttons on his high street suit were about to burst. 

The subject of his praise was unimpressed however, and started lipping the man’s coat sleeve, having no interest in his words of praise, but looking for something more substantive. The administrator prattled on, unaware of Seasparrow’s attempt to change the subject. Frustrated at being ignored, the horse used his teeth and gave the sleeve a good tug. Martha held her breath, sure that the man would not appreciate horse saliva and teeth marks on his thousand pound plus suit. She was wrong.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Dr. Marsh laughed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few lumps of sugar. “Here you go boy. You do good today and there will be plenty more where that came from.” The horse neatly plucked the offered sweets out of the man’s hand. 

“Well, let’s get going, shall we? There’s a great lunch waiting for us and this guy has a race to get ready for.” Dr. Marsh gave the horse a final pat to which the horse responded by butting his head up against his owner’s chest. _“Obviously looking for more treats,”_ thought Martha. _“Well, obvious to some, but not to others_.” 

“Ah, this is how he says goodbye,” Dr. Marsh explained as he pulled a final sweet from his pocket and gave it to the horse. He then lead his party back to the clubhouse. “He’s got a good chance today. His new jockey loves him almost as much as I do, regular match made in heaven. Today will be the day he breaks his maiden in the hurdles.”

Martha was amazed at how deluded that man was. It was a nice horse, friendly and all, but it was no race horse, no matter what its pedigree. It’s only chance of winning was if every other horse fell before the last. As they walked along Tom reached for her hand and squeezed it, not in affection but in warning. He must have sensed what she was thinking, though she was sure none of her thoughts had shown on her face. Tom was like that, an almost sixth sense of what was on her mind. She looked down at her free hand, her engagement ring prominent on her finger. Once it had been a symbol of love, now it felt more like a symbol of impending ownership. This ambitious new Tom was not the man she had fallen in love with. 

She sighed quietly, truth be told, the man she fell in love with was in a time line that no longer existed. The Tom Milligan she was with now hadn't been through the tyranny of the Master. A true sadist who killed and terrorized for his own pleasure. That Time Lord had destroyed 10% of the human population simply because he liked the word decimate. 

The Tom Milligan who had endured that, had more important things on his mind than hospital politics and keeping up appearances. That year of terror had been a crucible which had burned away all pretense and selfish motivations, and left a man purely motivated to helping his fellow man, giving up his life to save a person at that time that he barely knew. It rankled her perhaps even more because she knew "her" Tom was there inside this man of drive and ambition walking next to her now. She wondered if she was only in love with what he could have been and not with what he was. 

As they were approaching the clubhouse, Martha pushed her thoughts of her relationship problems aside. There was no need to interfere with Dr. Marsh's fun. His horse may be a total no hoper but the man clearly was besotted with it. She might as well play along if for no other reason than to help him enjoy the day as much as possible. She put on her brightest smile and started thinking of encouraging things she could say about Seasparrow. Tom must have sensed the change and put a comforting arm around her.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he asked. 

"A few times," Martha responded with a grin, "but it never hurts to repeat yourself in that area."

"I'll have to remember to do it more often then," he observed as he gave her shoulder an extra squeeze. "Too bad your mother couldn't have made it. Doctor Marsh has planned a very posh afternoon. It’s just her kind of thing.”

Martha just smiled and kept her thoughts to herself. Her mother's tendency to blunt honesty was the last thing that would be welcome here. 

When they reached the private room in the club house Martha saw the Tom had not been exaggerating. A spread had been set up fit for royalty from fancy hors d'oeuvres (definitely too posh to be called nibbles), to a carvery with roast beef, mutton and ham, sides that were so exotic were all being attended to by liveried servants. She suspected as the day proceeded sweets and pastries of various kinds would be brought out. The champagne was already starting to flow.

One of servants was about to hand her a glass, when her mobile rang. Tom shot her a harsh look. "You said you had the day off," he accused.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with a shrug as she fished her mobile out of her bag. "They said I would only be called if it was a true emergency." 

Tom rolled his eyes. He didn't know the true nature of her work. She hadn't been authorized to tell him. As far as he knew she was a medical bureaucrat with an obscure government agency. The secrets she had to keep from him proved to be another strain on their relationship. He had complained many times about her _emergencies_. “How could papers needing to be moved from one side of a desk to another constitute an emergency?” was typical of the kind of comments he would make. A soft voice caught her attention. 

"Dear, if you need some privacy, you can use that room right over there," suggested Mrs. Marsh, her chiffon and gold bracelet clad arm was pointing to a door in the back of the room. 

"Yes, thank you, that’s very kind of you, sorry to be a bother," apologized Martha as she put the phone to her ear and hurried to the offered room. "This is Dr. Jones," she spoke into her mobile, hoping it was a quick communications check. Tom would not be happy if she had to rush off.

She almost broke stride when she heard the voice on the other end of the line. It was Ianto. Clear and calm as always but she detected an undertone of tension.

"Dr. Jones, there's a medical emergency here at Torchwood. Is it possible you could get here straight away?"

All thoughts of pleasing Tom left her mind, if Ianto was calling her it was more important than her making a show for a department administrator. There was another concern however, she was too far from Torchwood to be the physician of choice for a true emergency. "I can come, I’m almost an hour away, but isn’t there someone closer you can call?" 

"No, I'm sorry. We need someone with your expertise and special experience. There’s no one closer. Should I have a car pick you up?"

Martha noticed he didn't ask her location, of course he would know where she was. He was Torchwood after all. He probably had a map of the club house and knew what room she was speaking from. "No, I'll borrow Tom's car."

"The green boxster?" Ianto inquired.

"Yes, that one," Martha replied with a sigh. A car built for pure ego, another sign Tom was more about flash than substance. She remembered him telling her that having that car would show him to be the kind of young go getter the hospital board liked, the kind that would bring in the posh private patients. Pure stuff and nonsense her mother had called it.

"I'll arrange for lights and speed cameras to be favorable," Ianto informed her. "Please come quickly."

“Is there anything you can tell me about the patient,” Martha queried.

“No, I can’t, this isn’t a secure line,” Ianto replied. “It’s none of the staff though.” 

Martha relaxed, suddenly aware of the tension she had been holding in her body since she’d heard Ianto’s voice. “So, you, Jack and Gwen are all alright then?”

“Yes, we are, but please hurry. It’s important that you get here soon.” 

"I'm on my way," Martha assured him. She hung up and smiled despite the seriousness of the situation. For once that stupid car just might come in handy. Tom would envy the drive she was about to give it.

She quickly walked back into the private party room and found her fiancé, who was chatting up Dr. Marsh's wife. Perfect. She attracted his attention with a hand on his arm.

"Tom, I have an emergency and need to go now. May I have the keys to the car?" Martha asked.

Tom's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Martha held her breath. _"Oh please don't be difficult,"_ she prayed silently. Before Tom responded, Mrs. Marsh spoke up. 

"I really do think it is delightful how supportive you young men are of your partners these days. I wish there had been that kind of understanding when I was young. Who knows what I might have become if only I'd had the opportunity. But back then a woman's career and plans always took the back seat to the man's.”

Tom fished the car keys from his pocket and handed them to Martha. "Yes, of course you can take it. Call me and let me know you’re alright will you?”

“Of course I will,” Martha replied. 

“Will you be back in time for us to go home together or will I need to hire a car.”

“Don't you worry Tom, we have plenty of room in our car,” Mrs. Marsh interjected. “I’m sure my husband would enjoy the chance to talk in private."

Martha felt a surge of gratitude towards the woman. "I'm sorry I'll miss the race," she apologized as she fished a twenty pound note from her purse. "Please put this on Seasparrow for me," she requested as she handed the note to Tom.

"You sure you want to do that dear?" asked Mrs. Marsh. "I know my husband thinks this time he'll win, but..." The old woman shook her head with a sad smile her gold and diamond earrings slightly swaying beneath her well-coiffed hair emphasizing the movement. 

"I'm sure," assured Martha with a smile. "I have a feeling also. This just might be his race after all."

"Well run along then dear," urged Mrs. Marsh. "I'll make your apologies to my husband."

Martha took time for one last thank you then quickly left the room. Soon she was on her way to Torchwood, wondering what the emergency could be. At least she was familiar with their equipment and facility. That was an advantage over some of the situations she'd been in since joining UNIT. At the first light she saw Ianto's magic was working. The light short cycled so she had a green when she arrived. She could floor the Porsche with confidence and give it a good workout. 

 

Ianto pocketed his mobile. Martha was on her way. He was grateful she hadn’t pressed him for more information. From what he had observed she was almost as besotted by the Doctor as Jack was. Her medical professional objectivity might carry over to when she was driving but he didn’t want to risk it. Even with the traffic lights adjusting to expedite her journey, she needed to fully concentrate on her driving at the speeds she was traveling at. He watched her progress for a few miles making sure the software was working. Not only did it ensure she always had a green light but once she was on the M4 it would alter the traffic lights to lessen the number of cars that would be entering the motorway as she passed by. 

Satisfied it was working, he proceeded to prepare for her arrival. The coffee mess was ready. Martha preferred tea and he had laid in a fresh supply with the Doctor here. She would need some changes of clothes and perhaps some toiletries. It was doubtful she would only be here a day. He knew her size and taste, and ordered what he felt was appropriate. 

Taking care of the details no one else thought of, that was what he was good at. The things that others were at first grateful for, then later they just expected it as a matter of course. Hopefully Jack would appreciate his efforts in getting Martha here. He felt the Doctor was a rival for Jack’s attention, but he was still going to do whatever it took to help him. Maybe then Jack would forgive him. And he owed the Doctor. He’d felt that creature take control of him and seen the effort it took for the Time Lord to free him from it. He was grateful for that, but didn’t understand why. Why would the Doctor save him at such a cost? 

He stared at the monitor, the pale, thin, fragile looking figure on the screen offered no answer to that question. And somehow he doubted it ever would.


	24. Chapter 24

Jack skidded to a halt when he entered the storeroom, stunned by the mixed up jumble of a mess that it was in. How much of the chaos was from Torchwood's neglect and how much was from the Doctor's recent efforts he wasn't sure. As his eye caught on the pile of rubble where the cyber converter had been, he suspected the later. He turned as he heard Gwen coming up behind him.

“Start working over there with that first cabinet,” Jack ordered, indicating a gun metal gray storage cabinet with doors with his chin. “Look for anything that is marked with J-12 or could be mistaken for J-12. We aren’t sure it was a bin number, so examine everything. I’ll check where he was working. Hopefully he left a clue or two there as to what we are dealing with or looking for.”

"I suppose it would be too much to ask that he kept notes," asked Gwen as she started over to her assigned cabinet. 

"Definitely." The captain laughed coldly as he started to go through the items on the table, “he’s the type who feels if it's important he'll remember it, and if he doesn't remember it, it wasn't important."

"Works for him, does it?" responded Gwen as she turned over a metallic cube, checking all sides for any markings before replacing it on the shelf. 

"Mostly, but I've seen it catch up with him a few times, like now. A computer file or voice log would really come in handy at the moment." Jack stopped talking and frowned at the mess on the table. It was mostly tools and spare parts, a tea pot with a matching cup, but no sign of what the Doctor had been working on last. He sat down in the lone chair, there had to be a clue in here somewhere. 

With a frustrated sigh he stretched out his leg. His foot bumped into something. Looking down he saw the Toclafane shell rolling away from him in an arc, making a thumping sound as it moved from one black lacquered metallic petal to the next. It stopped when it hit one of the table legs, almost embracing it between two of the petals. Curiosity piqued, he bent over and reached down to pick it up only to find he had to work it free of the leg. It reluctantly came free, scraping some paint off the support as it did so.

Frowning he turned it over in his hand as he leaned back in the chair, trying to figure out what the Doctor could have been doing with the shell. When he’d brought it back to the Hub the Doctor had treated it as if it was the golden egg itself. So what was it doing discarded so cavalierly on the floor? 

As he examined the shell he could identify the disconnected life support system, loose wires and tubes, but there was nothing obvious that could tell him what the Doctor had wanted with it. He briefly wondered if perhaps his friend had disabled it. He glanced at the pile of scrap that had been the cyber converter. No, this device was far too intact to have received that treatment at the hands of the Time Lord.

“Nothing in this one,” Gwen declared, breaking into his thoughts as she slammed the cabinet door shut with a loud metallic clang. 

“Did you see anything that looked like it shouldn’t be there?” Jack asked, putting the Toclafane shell down on the table.

“Now how would I know that? It’s all alien to me. It’d be better if you asked me if anything looks like it does belong.” 

“Point taken, keep looking,” Jack ordered. 

“Yes sir,” Gwen replied curtly. Her voice then softened, “We’ll figure this out Jack, don’t worry.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He’s your friend, you won’t fail him.”

The muscles on Jack’s jaw tightened briefly. “That wasn’t enough for Tosh and Owen,” he stated quietly. Gwen opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. Jack broke the uncomfortable silence. “Go on, get back to work,” he barked. 

He watched as Gwen shrugged and moved on to the next storage unit. She was immediately on task, carefully but quickly examining every shelf and item on it. It was time he got back to work also. Contemplating the table, he felt he was missing something, something important. He examined the teapot. He wasn’t sure why. Trying to read the tea leaves perhaps. Didn’t work, the tea was well confined in a strainer, there were no leaves. 

_‘The Doctor had been doing something that involved the Toclafane shell, but what?’_ Jack wondered. His eye caught a part lying on the table. Small, black, it was familiar to him, but he hadn’t seen one in a while. Picking it up he saw it was damaged, a slight bubbling on the surface consistent with a burnout of some kind. The TARDIS had a ton of them in her circuitry. It had to be Gallifreyan in origin. 

_‘What would the Doctor want this for?’_ he asked himself as he rolled the part between his thumb and index finger. _‘Or is this what he replaced?’_

Jack picked up the shell again, examining the inside closely. There were two parts identical to the damaged one left in the shell. He could see several ports that might accommodate additional ones. He tested his theory with the burnt out part. It fit perfectly. So the Doctor had been cannibalizing the shell for its parts. Its Gallifreyan parts. He looked around for the device that the Doctor had been working on. It wasn’t on the table or under. Nor had it contributed to the debris around the table. It must be somewhere in this room. 

“Gwen,” Jack yelled as he stood up from the table, “I know what we’re looking for. It’s gold, shiny, oblong shaped, about the size of a DVD player but no sharp corners, rounded, and has uh this etching on it like the symbol at the car park only more complicated.”

Gwen looked over to him hope then doubt crossing her face. “You sure?

“Positive. It’s got to be what he meant,” Jack replied as he quickly went to the nearest shelf unit on his side of the room. “It’s the last thing he was working on and now it’s missing.”

Gwen frowned. “He might also have meant something he saw here.”

Jack didn’t even bother to turn around to answer her, instead he just kept quickly going through the storage units on his side of the room as he responded. “Look it’s a gut feeling, but it’s a strong gut feeling. And if I had listened to my gut instead of being so stupidly bureaucratic in our search we would have it by now. My gut is also telling me we don’t have much time left, so get back to work.”

From the sounds behind him, Jack could tell Gwen was doing as she was told and moving far more quickly than before. The unit he was on was not much help. It had some labels, all R with a hash mark except the top one which had a J but no number other mark that he could see. The label was worn though, so as a precaution, he scanned it with his wrist device, just in case there was a 12 the Doctor could see but he couldn’t. Disappointment hit him as he saw it was the manufacturer’s name. 

The next unit was more difficult. It was labeled, but with barcodes. He was about to skip checking them, thinking the Doctor wouldn’t have been able to read it, but stopped himself. The TARDIS might still be helping her pilot with translations. Barcode patterns had to be in her data banks. He scanned them, no joy. All A’s followed by three digits, numbered consecutively. There was no rhyme or reason for the markings from one unit to the other. They seem to have been gathered from random storage areas around Cardiff. He expanded that region when he saw the next shelf. It was labeled in Jathaaese. Torchwood had apparently scavenged a lot more than an energy weapon from that downed sunglider. 

Fortunately Jack was fluent in Jathaaese, having had a few assignments on Jathaa. The warlike race that lived there knew the importance of R&R. Jack never found those assignments particularly arduous. They had no equivalent for “J” in their language however. So it wouldn’t be here. He gave the shelves a cursory look, there was nothing that looked even remotely like what the Doctor had been working on, and moved on. 

Soon Jack was beginning to wonder if he had overlooked the device. There were only four unsearched storage units between him and Gwen. He couldn’t imagine the Doctor would have bothered to put it this far back in the room. Going through the motions, he was now convinced was heading down another dead end, he moved to the next storage unit. It looked more like it belonged in a hobbyist’s garage than in a government facility. Open in structure, its gun metal gray were shelves bulging with spare parts and cables. He was about to give it a pass when his eyes stopped on a middle shelf, its label clear and easy to read: J-12. 

“Oh, please be it,” pleaded Jack unaware he had spoken out loud. 

“Have you found it?” asked Gwen stopping in her work. 

“I’ve found a shelf labeled J-12,” replied Jack as he started removing coils of cable. “I haven’t found the device though. It’s just junk back here. Nothing’s intact. Wait...” A glint of gold caught Jack’s eye. Way in the back of the shelf. He started to reach for it and saw it move, a slight tilt upward. That meant the part he didn’t see had moved downward, possibly starting on a path off the shelf itself. He backed off.

“It’s not there?” asked Gwen, who was now standing behind him. 

“Oh it’s there, but it’s about to fall off the back,” replied Jack as he pushed past her to have a look at the back of the open shelf unit and found himself thwarted by the 5 cm gap between that unit and the next. To his dismay it was the same on the other side. 

“What was he thinking, stuffing it in the back like that?” asked Jack, exasperated and not expecting an answer. Gwen provided one anyway. 

“Maybe he was hiding it from the creature. Maybe it’s the creature that wants us to find it, not him.”

Jack thought for a moment, _‘Could she be right? Could they be on the creature’s errand, not the Doctor’s?_ He pushed the idea from his mind, he didn’t have time for it. “No, it’s the Doctor who wants us to find this.”

“All right then,” said Gwen, “how do we get it out safely?”

Jack stared at the unit then shook his head with a laugh when he realized how simple the solution was. “Start stuffing things in the shelf below it till they reach the wall. Give it nowhere to fall then we can get it out.”

They quickly took large items from the other shelves and jammed them into the lower shelf. Soon Jack saw the movement he wanted, the gold corner of the device moving down meaning the other corner was now supported. “Okay that’s enough.” He carefully removed the items in the front of the shelf and revealed what he had been looking for. Intact, undamaged and hopefully, operational. 

“Now comes the hard part,” declared Jack as he picked up his prize from the shelf. 

“The hard part?” queried Gwen, incredulously. 

Jack smiled wryly as he answered. “Yes figuring out what it is and how to operate it.” He was turning the device over in his hands when another idea struck him. “Look, this might not even be what he was talking about. It could be something he saw when he put this on the shelf. Go through everything on there and see if there is anything else we should be looking at.” 

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure I’m the one to do that?” 

“Yes, from what I saw it was mostly mundane earth parts. Just bring me anything that isn’t. I’ll be over at the table trying to open this up without breaking it.” 

 

At the table Jack continued to turn the device trying to discover its purpose. This was going to be a difficult puzzle. He recognized the markings as Gallifreyan. Not good, he’d never learned how to read that language. The Doctor had always ignored him when asked what a specific marking meant. All the time he had spent on the TARDIS and he didn’t even know what the Gallifreyan for Exit was. He could see no seams, openings or controls. Just the unreadable markings. 

He started to trace one of the lines and felt a vibration beneath his fingers. Had he turned it on? He continued to trace the pattern and was rewarded with a display screen. Amazingly the language of the display was fifty first century common, his native tongue. ‘At last a break,’ he thought. 

Reading the instructions that had come up on the screen he realized this was indeed the correct device, the hunt was over. 

“Well that’s convenient,” said Gwen, who had come up behind him unnoticed holding a few Sfiphix children’s toys in her hands. “It’s in English.”

“English?” repeated Jack surprised. “No, it's…” he stopped himself as he realized what was going on. “It’s telepathic. It’s doing the translation for us.”

“Why bother with words then? Why not just put the instructions in our mind direct”

“That’s not as easy as you would think. Words make a better interface. Gives the recipient a chance to digest the information in their own way. Important when dealing with cross species communication.”

“So is it what we were looking for then?”

“Yes, it is,” affirmed Jack as he stood up from the table tucking the device under his arm. “Let’s go, it’s time to see whether it works or not.” 

Gwen followed Jack as he set off at a quick trot. “Ianto, let me into the cell block,” Jack yelled as he entered the main office area. 

 

“You found it?” Ianto asked as he entered a few strokes on his keyboard. Jack heard the click of the locking mechanism for the cell block opening.

“Yes, it’s here,” Jack looked down at the device. “And disarm that cell.”

“No, sir.”

Jack turned back from the open door to the cell block, fury in his eyes. “What?”

“No, you don’t know if that will work. It might make things worse. We need the cell in case things go wrong.”

The captain stole a glance at Gwen to see if he could get some support there and saw none. Wrong time to throw his weight around. “Alright you have a point. Come on, I might need some help.”

Ianto gave a worried glance at his monitor. “What is it?” Jack asked.

“I have Dr. Jones coming in.” explained the aide. 

“What? What does she want?” 

“I called her in. The Doctor’s condition is deteriorating, we might need her expertise.”

“Okay, but she can wait at the door for a few minutes, can’t she?”

“I told her not to worry about traffic lights that I would take care of them. She’s in the city now and someone needs to monitor the program as a precaution.” 

“What’s her ETA?”

“Ten minutes.”

Jack smiled. “Good work, I hadn’t thought of that but you’re right we may need her.” He then turned to Gwen. “Looks like it’s just you and me then, you ready?”

“Of course.”

Jack hurried through the cell block aware of the ambassador and Frank as they passed them by. One sitting on his bed, frail and pathetic, staring at nothing. The other out cold, most likely drugged by Ianto. Both problems he would have to deal with later, but didn’t have time for now. 

Outside the Doctor’s cell he quickly went over the instructions for the device. Simple enough: target the alien energy, extract it, it goes into a holding area where it can be destroyed. He saw his friend shudder when he opened the door. ‘Don’t worry my friend it will be over soon,’ he said silently. 

He started to scan the Doctor’s body and his hopes for an easy solution plummeted and shattered into a thousand pieces. The energy signatures were hopelessly intertwined one green, one yellow. There was no central core that he could see and both seemed to be hanging on to the other, so it was impossible to tell who was the invader and who was the invaded. He quickly scanned his own hand, as the Doctor’s screams started echoing off the cell walls, hoping perhaps a body’s native energy was represented by a specific color. No joy, his energy was blue. 

As he saw his friend thrashing on the floor he thought to just pull one color energy out and if he was wrong put it back and pull the other. With the intertwining it would take a long time, but it was the only hope they had. He started to pull on a tip of the yellow energy lifting its grasp on the green. An alarm showed on the device. The containment chamber was disabled. He released the energy and shut down the device. The Doctor’s screams subsided into ragged sobs, He rolled on his side and Jack could see trails of red blood dripping from his nose and mouth. His eyes staring at nothing, as if blind. 

Jack’s hands shook. He wanted to smash the energy extractor into bits for the harm it had caused, but it was still the only hope they had. He put it down gently and stepped into the cell wanting to assure his friend he would find a solution. The Doctor’s reaction was immediate, arched back and screaming, his hands pounded against the hard floor. Jack heard a sickening crack as he backed out. 

Feeling helpless as he closed the door to the cell, he turned to see Gwen, whose face was filled with sympathy, when what he really wanted was for someone to blame him as much as he blamed himself.


	25. Chapter 25

Not being able to sense his location either spatially or temporally was maddening for the Doctor, in a very real and literal way. He felt as if he was spread across a thousand galaxies and condensed down into a single grain of sand slipping into a black hole. His mind rebelled at the impossibility of it, but it felt real none the less. The creature was concentrating on toying with the organ that allowed Time Lords to sense time and space, making him feel stretched and folded in ways no mere human mind could imagine. Mixed in with this were incoherent flashes of light and pain that made no sense. But then it was the time that mattered anyway. It could not have been eons he told himself. The earth had not turned to dust. It was just his broken time sense. He had to believe he was still in Torchwood, on the floor of the cell. He had to continue to hold the creature to him, not let it escape. So he doggedly sent the signals for his lungs to expand and contract, drawing in the air he couldn't feel, trusting it was still there. He willed his hearts to beat slowly, steadily, to send life sustaining blood to the rest of his body, unable to feel them respond, but knowing they must be responding because he still had thought. Unless he was wrong and there really was a hell, and he was in it. 

Suddenly he felt the cold of the hard floor against his back, the beads of sweat that stung when they rolled across the scrapes and cuts on his body. His body shivered as nerves that had been under the command of the monster were freed and real world sensations rushed in. But most importantly, he could again sense that wonderful dent the mass of the earth made in the fabric of space, he felt its movement and the necessity of it. He delighted in the sensation of knowing when and where he was. Then felt an internal yank as the creature put all its effort into trying to escape his grasp. Someone was dangerously near, a target the creature dearly wanted. A target the Doctor could sense anytime it was near, Jack. In desperation the Doctor made his grip even tighter. Letting the creature know he would hang on till death. Then death came. 

The cell was flooded with fire. He felt his skin blister and crisp as it charred in the intense heat. He continued to hold on to the creature’s energy, not letting it escape, hoping he could at the critical moment, stop the regeneration and force the creature to die with him. His lungs filled with searing hot air as he started to scream. Then he realized he shouldn’t be able to scream. He’d be dead before his first breath was complete. This was all sensory input the creature was driving into his nerves, effective, but not real. The lack of reality didn’t stop his screams however. The pain was real even if the cause was not. But he could spare no thought to it. He had to continue to hang on, concentrate only on the creature and let his body react as instinct demanded. 

Something new was added to his burden. Something he couldn’t identify was making it harder to maintain his concentration. Like a buzzing throughout his body on top of the pain. His hearts were skipping, out of rhythm. He tried to regain control, but he had too much to do. The creature was now trying to merge totally with him. He was tempted to give up his grip but feared it was a feint. Panic struck when a small part of his energy was pulled away from him. Then it stopped, the energy returned, wounded but whole. The buzzing ceased. He could block the pain again and stop the screams. He couldn’t see, but at least, he could feel cool air fill his lungs with every ragged breath he took. A small reprieve. There was a taste of iron and salt in his mouth, consistent with blood. He didn’t care. He was breathing and the creature hadn’t escaped. His energy was still firmly entwined with its. He’d won.

Then too quickly the battle was rejoined. The creature was sending new pain into his body as if his back was being racked by fiery claws. Putting rends in his flesh down to his ribs and spine. He knew it wasn’t real, it was a distraction designed to get him to let go. It was after Jack again, he was sure of it. He tried to yell a warning, but could form no words through his screams. Then the pain stopped and he was plunged back into that world without sensation or time. He suspected the creature was recovering from its latest efforts, feeding off the mental pain and confusion caused by the impossible sensations. He made a feeble attempt to try to control his emotions, starve the creature. He failed. Keeping his lungs breathing and his hearts beating, holding the creature to him, that was all he had strength for. A strength that was fading as the creature became stronger. 

 

Jack had the extractor tucked firmly under his arm as he approached the cell block egress. The door handle moved away from him as he reached for it. 

“It didn’t work?” asked Ianto as he held the door open. 

“No, it didn’t,” barked Jack, irritated at being asked such an obvious question. 

“Jack,” snapped Gwen, the reprimand clear in her voice as Ianto looked away. 

The captain held up his hand to stop her from continuing. He got her message, it was clear. This wasn’t the time to alienate the team with his frustration. He took a deep breath, as he walked over to Tosh’s old desk and gingerly set the energy extractor down on it, wishing she were still alive to help. He stared at the frustratingly meaningless symbols on the device, as he gathered his thoughts and considered his next words carefully. 

They needed to concentrate on the problem, not on the failure. Who was he kidding he needed to concentrate on the problem. He was the one with the distracting emotions from this last failure, not his team. He turned away from the desk and faced them. Both were eyeing him warily. Ianto trying to keep his face a professional mask of neutrality but the worry behind his eyes was plainly visible. Gwen was not so subtle, her jaw was set firm, almost defying him to speak out of line again. 

“The display makes no judgment as to which is host and which is invader,” Jack explained with far more calmness than he felt. “What I saw was two equal sized, totally intertwined life forces. I couldn’t even tell which was attacking which. I could have killed the Doctor while trying to save him. Let that _thing_ have his body. We need to find a way to determine which energy signature is the creature’s and which is the Doctor’s.” 

He gestured towards the recalcitrant device. “Gwen, take a scan of the markings on this thing, see if you can find anything similar in our files. Gallifreyean is a rare language but a few symbols are common enough. We might get lucky.”

He watched Gwen pull out her camera and carefully take pictures of the device. She was thorough, checking it on all sides for any markings, before taking the camera to her desk. He could tell from the worry on her face that she doubted she was up to the task. It didn’t matter, he doubted any of them would be able to make sense of the markings. It was most likely a futile act. Just as what he was about to do was. But it was all he had. It was either this or go back with a fifty-fifty chance he would kill the Doctor. No, he pushed that thought aside. There had to be a way. 

Jack sat down and turned on the device, and started searching through the instructions for any clue as to how to solve the problem of getting the creature out and leaving the Doctor intact. There had to be a catalog of energy signatures. Surely if it was a Gallifreyan device, it would at least have a typical Time Lord’s energy signal on file somewhere, possibly hidden by a broken link.

He felt a presence behind his shoulder and turned to see Ianto hovering over him. A sudden thought stuck him. “Where’s Martha?” he asked. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

His aid frowned. “A rookie stopped her. Insisted on searching her car. I had to make a couple of calls or he would have taken her in for speeding and tampering with the traffic system.”

Jack shook his head, most of the local constabulary knew their place, but there was a definite training problem with new hires. No time for that now though. “So how much longer till she is here?”

“She’s almost at the car park now.”

“Good, we’re going to need her. I’m pretty sure his arm was broken in that last fit and I doubt that is all that is wrong with him.” Jack ran his hand through his hair and started to turn away, but stopped when he realized Ianto wasn’t leaving. 

“Is there something else?” 

Ianto looked down, hesitating before he responded. “I think I know something we might try.”

Doubt warred with desperation in Jack’s mind. The last thing he needed was another false lead, but he had to admit his current plan was grasping at straws. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“The Doctor thought the ambassador might be infected. You could try the device on him. It might at least give us the creature’s energy signature.”

Dumbstruck that he hadn't thought of that himself, Jack snatched up the golden device and dashed back towards the cell block. 

“Jack, No!” yelled Gwen as she ran after him.

He ignored her as he unlocked the cell block door. She grabbed his arm causing the energy extractor to slip from his grasp.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, barely managing to catch the device before it hit the floor. 

“I could ask the same of you?” Gwen countered, the force in her voice more than matching his as she stepped in front of the open cell block doorway. 

Jack, shifted his weight, preparing to push past her, then hesitated. The near accident with the energy converter made him more cautious. Best he try reason first, though he was going to be in for a fight. Her face was firm and stubborn, with a fire in her eyes that told him this stubbornness was born of compassion, and she had no intention of giving in.

“He’s not a lab rat, Jack, he’s a human being,” Gwen reasoned. “You can’t just turn that thing on him and hope it works. You saw what it did to the Doctor. It might kill a human for all you know.”

“And if I don’t do this, the Doctor might die,” retorted Jack trying to keep his voice calm and rational. “I’m out of ideas Gwen and he’s almost out of time.”

“We don’t even know if the ambassador's infected. You could be risking his life for nothing. Would the Doctor want that?” 

Jack looked past Gwen at the cell that held the Doctor. _“Would he?”_ he asked himself. _“Did it matter?”_ came the reply. People had risked their lives and died for the Doctor many times before, whether he wanted them to or not. He really didn’t get a vote in this. But it was time to try a different tack with Gwen. 

“Gwen, if that thing is in the ambassador it won’t be long before he finds himself in the same predicament the Doctor is in. Right now it should be small and easy to remove. Later it might be too late. This is as much for the ambassador’s own good as it is for the Doctor’s.” He saw Gwen bite her lip as her resolve started to falter and he knew he had his lever. 

“He should still be the one to make the decision, Jack.” 

“And how is that going to happen?” he replied with a calculated hint of sadness in his voice. “Gwen, you’ve seen him. He’s in no condition to make any decisions. He’s just been staring at the wall for the past three hours. I’m not even sure if we can get him to talk, the state he’s in.”

“Let me try. We owe him that much, at least. If it’s obvious he can’t decide for himself, then yes. But if he says no, you have to find another way, agreed?”

The old man was out of it, thought Jack. He doubted she would get any reaction from him, which would be just as good as a yes. “Agreed, you have five minutes to get a response from him, then we do it my way.”

Gwen frowned, but nodded her agreement before entering the cellblock. Jack followed her to the cell, stopping in the doorway to observe. The former policewoman did have a touch when it came to connecting with people, though he felt her efforts would be futile in this situation. 

“Hello Nigel,” she said softly as she approached the old man, pulling up a chair so she could sit across from him. As Jack expected the ambassador showed no sign of noticing her presence, his gaze was over her shoulder, staring at nothing, she persisted however. “I know this all must seem horribly confusing to you, it certainly was for me when I first came here, but I need to talk to you about what happened. We know you weren’t the one who killed Celeste. It wasn’t your fault what happened.” 

To Jack’s amazement and disappointment, the ambassador blinked and turned to face Gwen, Calm and soothing, her voice continued. “I know you remember doing it, but it wasn’t you, not really. There’s this creature, made of energy. It was inside you when Celeste died. It used your body to kill her.”

“Wh… Why?” the ambassador stammered as a faint light of intelligence showed in his eyes. “Why kill Celeste?”

“We don’t know.” Gwen shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you we’ll find out, but we may never know why.”

At that news the old man turned away from Gwen. His shoulders sank and his gaze became unfocused again. She was losing him.

“Nigel,” Gwen called sympathetically, her hand reaching out to his, “I need you to stay with me. This is important. We think the creature may have left a piece of itself inside you.”

His head turned quickly back to face her, his eyes wide. “Inside me?” he whispered. 

“Yes, and we need to get it out before it grows any stronger.”

“But, it’s not the creature that killed Celeste?” he asked. There was a slight tremble in his voice, but it was obvious to Jack he was quickly regaining the use of his faculties. 

“No, we think what is in you is like its child, but removing it from you will give us information on the creature that killed Celeste and prevent it from taking over anyone else.” 

“Will you kill it?”

“Yes, we’ll kill it, if we can. So, will you let us try to take it out? We’ll move you to the infirmary and there will be a doctor there to look after you.” 

The ambassador stared at Jack and the device he had tucked under his arm. “Infirmary? Not here?”

“Yes, the infirmary,” assured Gwen with a smile. “It will be safer for you and we can get more information about the creature there than we can here, can’t we Jack?” She looked Jack in the eye, defying him to contradict her.

“Yes, we can,” Jack replied impatiently. “Is he able to get there under his own power or should I call Ianto to help him?”

“I can walk,” stated the ambassador as he stood up rather shakily. The steps were small and slow but Jack could tell from the expression on the old man’s face he thought he was striding determinedly to the door. The sluggishness of the pace was frustrating. He was about to call for Ianto to help, but Gwen caught his eye and shook her head. Jack sighed and stepped out of the way as the pair exited the cell. Gwen was next to the ambassador, her arm was behind him, not touching, but ready catch him should his pride cease to hold him upright.

Jack stared at the pair as they walked down the corridor. This wasn’t working out quite how he planned, but Gwen was right, the infirmary would be better. And not injuring the old man’s pride was probably a good idea. He just hoped that pride was strong enough for the old man to make it to the infirmary. Cracking his head on the floor and dying before they got to use the energy extractor on him could ruin everything.


	26. Chapter 26

Jack slowed his step when he entered the main area of the hub, letting Gwen take the ambassador on ahead into the infirmary. Something was different, wrong, dreading what he might see, he looked over to one of the monitors that showed the Doctor’s cell, only to find it was blank. He quickly checked all the monitors within his sight. There was a faint glow by Ianto’s workstation. But that was it and he couldn’t see the screen. 

“Ianto, status report,” Jack called, putting a calmness in his voice that he didn’t feel. If not for fear of spooking the ambassador, who was cooperating at the moment, he would have dashed back into the cell block to see for himself what had happened to his friend. 

“Sir, Dr. Jones is here,” came the composed reply. “I’ve briefed her on the ambassador’s condition and she has the infirmary ready.”

After a puzzled moment, Jack nodded his understanding. Ianto had told Martha about the ambassador’s condition, not the Doctor’s. Good call on his part, this way she would concentrate on the ambassador. Telling her about the Doctor would be an unnecessary distraction at this time and remembering his own reaction to his friend’s condition, it probably saved Ianto from having to execute another flying tackle. 

“You’ll let me know if anything changes?” asked Jack.

“Of course,” Ianto’s response was curt, with an insulted edge to his tone, clearly upset that the question had been considered necessary. Knowing he would have to make amends later, Jack hurried to the infirmary. 

Somehow the old man had managed to make it down the stairs with only minor assistance from Gwen, by the time Jack arrived the ambassador was being helped up onto the bed by Martha. Or rather Martha was trying to help him. The old man was balking. 

“No one said anything about restraints,” protested the ambassador, staring at the offending straps lying on the bed. His voice clearer and stronger than Jack would have thought possible a few minutes earlier. Back straighter too. He set down the energy extractor on a counter, wanting it safely out of the way if force needed to be used. Gwen gave him a warning stare which he ignored.

“They’re just a precaution,” Martha explained quietly. “Sometimes in these procedures there is some involuntary muscle movement. The restraints prevent you from injuring yourself.” 

The old man reached out and touched the cuff closest to him, refusing to look Martha in the eye, putting her at a disadvantage as she stood facing him but he keeping his side to her and the bed, preventing her from getting round in front of him. 

“They seem awfully… sturdy.” He frowned as he fingered the cuff, it’s still stiff outer leather and softer padded leather on the inside of the curve. “Why is it so big?” 

Martha reached over and gently took the cuff from him. “It’s made the way it is because if it breaks you could be hurt even more than you would without it,” she explained in a casual but authoritative tone. “Your hand would fly at an incredible speed. If it hit something, like a bed rail, you might even suffer a fracture.”

She turned it over in her hand. “These are actually quite comfortable. The padding is good, the inside leather is smooth and it is wide enough to distribute any pressure and avoid bruising.” She laid it on the bed and leaned over the bed turning her head so she could look him in the face. “Think of it like a seat belt, something to protect you. And like a seat belt these are just here as a precaution. I promise I’ll take them off as soon as we’re finished.” 

The old man sucked in his lower lip and let it out absentmindedly from between his teeth as he considered her words. Jack watched impatiently, subtly shifting his weight, preparing to jump the ambassador and throw him on the bed if need be. Gwen was glaring at him but he didn’t care. He ran Torchwood and it was time he started acting like it again. 

He was taking a step forward, about to implement his plan, when the ambassador nodded his head and said, “Alright, if it helps get Celeste’s killer.” 

Martha looked puzzled at the statement, but Gwen spoke up before she could ask what he meant. “Yes Nigel, it will help. I promise, we won’t let it get away.”

With a small nod as his eyes turned bright with unshed tears the ambassador turned his back to the bed and with a hand on each side pushed himself onto it. The bed creaked softly and he started to lie down when Martha stopped him. 

“Let me just check you over first,” she said, as she pulled out her stethoscope. “Sorry these always seem to be cold no matter what they’re made from.” She slide the chest piece of the stethoscope under the man’s shirt, tilting her head to one side as she listened intently. “Now breath deep please.” 

The old man complied and Martha move the stethoscope around, check all the pulmonary lobes Jack guessed as his patience wore thinner. What was Martha thinking? It’s not like they weren’t going to go through with the procedure if the man failed whatever physical she was giving him. And they had far more advanced equipment for checking heart and lungs than a stethoscope. 

When she picked up a tympanic thermometer he looked over at the energy extractor sitting on the counter. He could just pick it up turn it on and be done with all this. Gwen walked over to the device, picked it up and set it down firmly but gently on the opposite side of the room, well out of his reach. Jack just shook his head unable to believe he’d transmitted his intentions that clearly, like some rookie fresh out of the academy. 

Martha appeared unaware of the little scene he and Gwen had played out. Instead she was fastening an old style sphygmomanometer around her patient’s upper arm. The whooshing, hissing sound that was created with each squeeze of the bulb grated on his nerves. This whole procedure she was doing made no sense at all. Martha was familiar with the equipment they had. She could have known more about the man’s health in 30 seconds than she would get in a hour with the technology she was using. He stared at the scene frustrated and puzzled. 

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated,” Martha was saying. “Nothing to be worried about. I would get it checked by your own physician just to be sure.” 

The ambassador nodded. “I’ve had problems with it,” he admitted. “I’m supposed to take some pills, but I keep forgetting.”

“Well try to remember, it’s important you take them,” she said as she removed the blood pressure cuff and put her stethoscope away. “Otherwise you are in fine shape, now if you could just lie back, we can get on with this over with in just a few minutes.”

Acting as if what he was about to be done to him was the most natural thing in the world, the ambassador laid back on the bed, and only then did Jack understand the reason for Martha’s exam. She had provided a familiar routine for the old man, putting him at ease and establishing some trust. Her patient was relaxed and cooperative now. There was a slight worried frown that passed over his face when Martha attached the first of the restraints. 

“Don’t worry,” she assured him with a smile, “I’ll take these off as soon as the procedure is over. Remember what I said, just think of it like a seat belt.”

The ambassador gave a brief nod and closed his eyes as Martha gently but efficiently finished fastening the restraints. 

As soon as she was done and stepped away from the bed, Jack strode over to the machine and turned it on, ignoring Gwen’s protest and Martha’s puzzled look. His patience was past the breaking point. He didn’t care if the old man was comfortable or not, he only cared to get the information he needed to save the Doctor, information that was now as clear as day on his screen.

The screen showed a predominance of light blue threads, and a smaller condensed set of green threads where he suspected the base of the brain to be. As he watched a green tendril started to grow downward along the spine. The creature in the ambassador was alive and sentient. The new and selective growth was an obvious attempt to anchor itself further. An attempt that was having obvious physical effects on the host as the ambassador’s eyes had rolled back in his head and his whole body was shaking. 

Martha stepped forward to help the old man, and was quickly restrained by Gwen. “No wait, this is normal. We’ve seen it before.” Gwen explained calmly.

“You’ve done this before? Then why was this an emergency? What did you need me for?"  
“Later, we’ll explain it all later,” Gwen replied in an attempt to answer all the questions with one response. Jack let the conversation fade from his awareness, trusting that Gwen could handle Martha. Jack’s top priority right now had to be getting the creature out of the ambassador. Not for the old man’s sake, but for the Doctor’s. This was a full test of the device. The only one he would get before using it on the Doctor again. 

He attacked the newest tendril sliding his index finger on the screen to peel it back from the blue ignoring the warning that the containment chamber was disabled. It fought him, sending out energy with an appearance similar to the hair like fibers on a plant root as it tried to regain a grip on the host energy. The device was prepared for that and with a tap of his little finger the hair like energy disappeared as if singed by a match. Once he had it free he quickly and swiftly slid it down to the bottom of the screen. Seeing if once part of the creature was inside the machine the rest would be quickly pulled in and destroyed. 

Unfortunately that was not the case. The tendril snapped and shattered. Only the part of the tendril was destroyed. Six other pieces were now free, sending out fibrous energy trying to gain a foothold. Quickly he play grabbed them and slid them to the bottom of the screen. Each was destroyed. 

Jack stopped and considered. This technique was not going to work. The thing reproduced by fission. If he wasn’t careful he would be like the sorcerer’s apprentice, chopping up his main adversary, only to find he had created unaccountably many in its place. 

Time to try something new. He repositioned the device bracing it against his body so he could put his left thumb on the screen. He then peeled back the tendril that was starting to grow in place of the one that shattered. He flashed the fibers quickly and then slid his finger along the screen to place the tendril under his thumb. He pulled his hand away. Success, the tendril stayed put under his thumb. He tried it with another tendril. It too stayed, struggling but trapped. He had his technique.

It was going to be the slow and steady way. He bent to his work. Unwinding tendrils and trapping them under his thumb. Working carefully so as not to cause another break but quickly enough so the rate at which the tendrils were trapped was faster than the creature could grow them. He was vaguely aware of sounds about him, but he spared no concentration to determine what they were. It was just him, the screen and a knot of energy determined to never be untangled. Deliberately he unwound tendril after tendril, holding on to each one as he freed it, preventing it from reattaching, staying ahead of the creature's growth. He shook his head trying to shake off the sweat that stung his eyes, not daring to spare a hand for the effort. 

Then there was a soft cloth being pressed against his forehead, he was about to bark an order to back off, to quit distracting him, when he realized it was to take away the sweat for him, leaving him free to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Finally there was just one last tendril to be captured. It struggled with him, desperately trying to send out new shoots, each being destroyed before it could gain purchase. It wound itself around the brightest part of the blue energy, appearing to choke it off. That tactic didn’t work, he had plenty of practice now and he peeled the green energy, now a sickly pale color, away from the blue and trapped it under his thumb. Quickly before another tendril could form he slid his thumb to the bottom of the screen. 

The displayed showed the word DESTROYED in bright mauve letters. He was pretty sure for the rest of the people in the room they would appear as red and in English, not fifty first century common. There were numbers and units scrolling by on the display. He had no idea what they meant or even if they were important. The device seemed incapable of communicating the information to him in a way he could understand. He stared at the display panel, committing as much of the data as possible to memory. Maybe the Doctor would know what it was about, but for now, he knew how to work the device and that was all that was important. 

His job done, he let back in the distractions he had blocked out. His shirt was sticking to his chest and back from the sweat. He was thirsty and tired. How long had it been? He checked his vortex manipulator. 110 minutes and that creature was a small one, barely a twentieth of the size of the one in the Doctor. 

Almost in a daze he put the device down on the counter. The desire to run with the device into the Doctor’s cell was overwhelming. But he needed to rest, and perhaps something more. This was going to be no simple operation and there was no one he could pass the controls to if he faltered, if indeed the machine would even let a second operator take over. He shook his head trying to clear it.

Gwen was at his side. “Are you alright, Jack?”

“I’m fine,” came the obvious lie of a response from Jack as he pressed his fingers deeply into his scalp rubbing in small circles, trying to fruitlessly clear the fog from his brain. “How’s the ambassador?” he asked changing the subject. He dropped his hand and turned to see Martha removing the last of the restraints as she had promised. Her patient appeared awake and talking, but tired. His voice was hoarse and weak, and Jack couldn’t make out the words. The captain approached the bed to hear what the man had to say. 

“…was real wasn’t it? That thing really was inside me? I could feel it. It’s gone now, isn’t it? Tell me it’s gone.” The old man was whispering desperately. His hand reached out to Martha and clung there. 

“Yes it is gone,” assured Martha as she gently removed the man’s hand from her arm. “Now lie back down. You need to rest, that was quite an ordeal you went through.” She eased the man back into the bed and put up the sides. 

Jack looked at her quizzically as she took out an oxygen kit. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing, just a precaution,” she replied but the swiftness with which she set up the equipment proved her words to be false. Soon her patient had a mask on his face. His eyes blinked at her slowly and Jack could tell the man was fading fast. “Nigel,” she called with soft insistence. "I’m going to be putting in an IV, like the oxygen, it’s just a precaution. You’re a little dehydrated, nothing to worry about.” 

It was doubtful that her words registered with the old man. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and shallow. Jack thought he could detect a slight wheeze, like a rusted gate opening, as Martha quickly and efficiently started the IV. She injected several drugs into the line before she left her patient’s side. A quick jerk of her head indicated to Jack she wanted him to follow her out of the room.

As soon as he was up the stairs and closed the door. Martha laid into him. “I hope what you did was necessary,” she asked impatiently. 

“It was,” he assured her. 

“It better have been because it weakened him considerably. You need to move him to a hospital, now. His heart rate went up over 240 during that procedure. He’s not going to make it through the night if he stays here.”

Jack rubbed his forehead as he thought about the consequences of the ambassador leaving his control. He’d like to retcon the man at least. They did have an injectable form. Otherwise he didn’t need him. But MI-5 might wonder where Frank was if the ambassador suddenly turned up at a hospital. On the other hand, the one bed infirmary might soon have another occupant. Having it clear and ready for the Doctor might be a good idea. 

“Is he stable for now?” replied Jack trying to buy a little time to think this through further.

Martha bit her lip and looked back at the room. “For the moment, but he could crash at any time. He really must be moved now. I’m not a cardiac specialist, and that’s what he needs.”

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. It seemed there was just one thing after another. “Alright,” he acquiesced. “I’ll have Ianto check into making the arrangements.”

Martha nodded her agreement. “Are we done here then?” she asked. 

“Yes,” replied Jack, relieved he could now go and check on the Doctor’s condition. Martha’s hand was on the infirmary door when he changed his mind.

“Can your patient wait for a while?” he asked. “I need to talk to you in my office about another situation.”

“It has to be in your office?” 

“Yes, it does. I have something there you should see.”

Martha hesitated before answering, clearly torn between her patient and the urgency in Jack’s voice. “Let me check him, make sure he’s okay and give Gwen some instructions for watching him.” 

Jack forced a smile on his face. “While you do that, I’ll see that Ianto gets started on arranging to have him transferred.”

Martha smiled back with a quick nod, then her face was serious as she turned to take care of her charge. Jack headed over to Ianto to give him instructions on the ambassador, at least one, the retcon, Martha might not agree with, but security was security. As soon as he finished there, he was going to put away the breakables in his office. Hopefully Martha’s reaction to the Doctor’s condition would be better than his, but he wasn’t taking any chances.


	27. Chapter 27

Jack was holding a small glass globe with a picture of a young woman inside, a memento of a love long lost. He stopped himself as he was about to put it in a drawer. The orb was cold and heavy in his hand as he stared at the image, wishing hologram technology had been available at the time it had been made. He briefly wondered how many loves he would lose throughout his infinite life and let the globe slip from his hand into the drawer with a soft thud, it rolled to the back of it, most likely to be forgotten. 

As he closed the drawer he looked up and saw Martha waiting in his office doorway. “Are you alright?” she asked softly her voice full of concern. “How long has it been since you’ve had a break?” 

“Actually,” said Jack as he got up from behind his desk, “that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Here have a seat.” He gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he came around and sat on the corner of it, keeping one leg on the ground He assumed a casual pose, as if he was about to talk about last week’s football game. He was gathering his thoughts trying to think of how to begin. However it was Martha who started off the conversation. 

“Are you going to tell me why I’m really here?” she asked him as she sat down. “Ianto said you needed someone with my expertise. You needed a geriatric expert for what we just did, not me.”

“You have the clearances.”

“And you have retcon. Come on Jack, I don’t have time for these games. I have a patient to attend to. You wanted me here for a reason, what is it?”

Jack looked down and shook his head. “You’re right. I’m stalling and the ambassador isn’t the reason we brought you here. He was more a test subject.”

“A test subject!” cried Martha. “You might have killed him! In fact you may have!” The chair scraped along the floor as she jumped to her feet, furious. “What do you think you are doing here? Have you lost your mind?”

Jack held up a hand trying to deflect her anger. “Look, it’s more than that. He needed the procedure done. If what was inside him continued to grow he’d been in much worse shape than he is right now.”

“He was obviously stressed before the procedure. You could have given him time to regain his strength a little before you ‘cured’ him,” replied Martha as she took her seat again. 

Jack sighed. “No I couldn't have, as I said, he was the test subject. We weren't even sure if he was infected. The real subject is in much worse shape. Right now he seems to be holding his own more or less, but I’m not sure how much longer that will be the case. The creature that is inside him has grown so strong it is equal in size to his own life energy, and he appears to be getting weaker as it gets stronger.”

“If it’s so urgent why are you wasting time here? Why aren't you getting the creature out of your real subject ?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. She’d struck a sore point. Every fiber of him wanted to start working on the Doctor now, but he didn’t dare. “The ambassador is the first time I’ve successfully used the device and that was a juvenile that was inside him, an infant really. It took far more concentration, speed and coordination than I thought it would. I’ve been going too long without a break and I need to rest before I tackle the other one. The safeties on the device we used aren’t working. A single mistake could be fatal.”

“Jack, you used a dodgy device on a British Ambassador so you could test it out before you used it on the real victim? What were you thinking? Who’s the real victim, a royal?” 

“Martha,” Jack said softly, hesitating before finishing his reply, his stomach knotting at his anticipation of her reaction. “It’s the Doctor.”

Martha stood up like a shot. “Where is he?” she demanded. Why didn’t you tell me he was sick when I arrived here? I didn’t see the TARDIS in the Plas. Did he park it somewhere else? Is that where he is?” The questions continued to pour out with no break for an answer. Jack let them run their course, while he decided how to answer the first one. He knew how she felt and she wasn’t going to be too pleased with where the Doctor was. Finally she came back round to her original question. 

“Jack, where is he? I need to see him,” she demanded with an authority that she must have acquired at UNIT. 

“He’s in a holding cell. Ianto tried…” Jack caught Martha’s waist as she tried to run past him. 

“How could you put him there?” she cried as she struggled to get free. “He should be in the infirmary, not that ambassador.” She thumped him hard on the shoulder. “What were you thinking? I thought you were his friend.” Another thump on top of the first, Jack could feel a bruise starting to form. 

“Martha, Martha.” Jack’s voice was firm but quiet. “Listen to me. The holding cell was his idea. He put himself there. Ianto tried to move him and the Doctor paid for it. I tried to go to him and he suffered again. We can’t get near him and you can’t go to him. As much as I hate where he is, he knew what he was doing, and he was right.” He felt Martha stop struggling and relax in his arms as his words got through to her. 

“So you’re telling me he wants to be in a cell?” she asked as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“No, I don’t think that is where he wants to be, but he knows that is where he needs to be. It’s where he insisted that he be. I was just as upset as you are when I found out. I thought… Well, never mind what I thought. But the Doctor insisted he be put in a cell, one that allows us to flash burn anything in it. He’s counting on us to save him and do the right thing if we can’t. Whatever is in him, can’t be allowed to spread.” 

“Jack, you’re not saying you’re going to…” Martha stopped, unable to utter the unthinkable. 

Jack held her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Not if there is any way I can prevent it. That is only as a very last resort. But to prevent that from happening, I have to make sure that everything is done correctly. I won’t sugar coat it, the Doctor is in a very bad state, he won’t survive any mistakes on our part, and we have reason to believe he won’t regenerate either.”

Martha swallowed hard as she looked up at the captain, fear mixed with determination in her eyes. “Alright Jack, what do you need me to do?”

“First, and this will be the hardest for you, you have to promise me you will stay away from the cell block.” He felt the young doctor stiffen under his hands as a protest formed on her lips. “I mean it! It hurts him right now if we get near him. I think it distracts him from the battle he is in or perhaps he has to make an extra effort to protect us. I’m not sure which, but I do know it causes him pain.”

He turned her around to face the main monitor in his office. “Watch, you can see for yourself.” Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he reached over to his keyboard and with a few quick clicks, brought up the footage he himself had reviewed over and over again, searching for any clues as to what was wrong with his friend. It started from when the Doctor first doubled over and continued to when Ianto armed the cell. 

Martha’s eyes went wide and her hand covered her open mouth as she watched the display. Jack could tell she wanted to look away, not see the pain and desperation on the Doctor’s face, hear the fear in his halting voice as he struggled to communicate with Ianto his need to be in a cell. Her breathing stopped when she saw the Doctor desperately fling himself towards the sterilization cell and did not return until she saw Ianto arm the cell and the screen went blank. 

“Jack, how did he get like that?” Martha asked as she turned towards him, her voice pleading for an answer, some explanation for the horror she had just seen. 

“We don’t know,” explained Jack. “He arrived here a few days ago. Didn’t seem to be himself, but he was pretty evasive. You know how he is, wouldn’t admit anything was wrong.” Martha nodded as Jack continued. “I figured he just needed some rest.”

His next sentence was lost in a yawn. “Martha, explanations are going to have to wait till later. Right now I’m the only one who knows how to operate that device and I am too tired to do it safely.” He hated himself for what he said next. “I need to sleep before I try again.” He changed the view on the monitor to the Doctors cell, the display showed medical readouts along the side.

“He’s in bad shape, Jack. I’m surprised he hasn’t regenerated by now.” 

“We think he won’t regenerate,” Jack explained, “and if he does, you heard him, he’s given instructions the cell is to be flashed.”

“But, why, why would he say that?” cried Martha. 

“We don’t know and right now, it’s not important.” 

“Jack!”

“No, really, it isn’t. What’s important is that we save him, the answers come later.” 

Jack considered the monitor and silently apologized to his friend for his weakness, his uncharacteristic caution. “Watch him for me,” he asked without taking his gaze from the monitor. “Wake me if he has a sudden drop in his condition. Until then, get hold of anything you might need to treat him once we get that thing out of him. And find that stuff they give to fighter pilots who are sleep deprived, modafinil I think it’s called. I don’t trust it, but I don’t trust myself in my current state. If I don’t get enough sleep, I’m going to have to use it, against my better judgment.”

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Martha asked, her voice was filled with concern. Jack couldn’t tell if that concern was for him or the Doctor. Perhaps both. 

Jack nodded. “It’s one thing you learn as a time agent. To catch sleep when you can, whenever you need to, and right now, I need to.”

Martha turned and stared at the monitor with Jack as she asked hopefully, “What if I used the device?” 

The Torchwood leader considered that possibility. The monitor showed the Doctor’s condition was stable but dire. Martha might be able to handle the device, but he had been surprised by how hard it had been to extract the juvenile. The creature in the Doctor would be much more difficult. His experience with the device would increase the odds and Martha would never forgive herself if something went wrong. It was better he do it. He had more experience dealing with guilt. 

“No, I need you sharp for after the creature is out,” he answered, rejecting her offer. “The Doctor is going to need a lot of attention. You saw how much using the device took out of me. I don’t want to get that thing out of him and then lose him because our only medic is incapacitated.”

“But Jack…”

“No Martha, it would take me as long to teach you how to use it as I’m planning on sleeping. This way is better. Trust me.” 

Martha appeared unconvinced, but nodded her acquiescence. 

“Alright if that’s settled, I’m going to get some rest. Wake me if anything changes.” He left Martha in his office and headed for his bedroom stopping to pick up the device along the way.

Martha continued to stare at the monitor, assessing the Doctor’s condition, as she sat down at Jack's desk. His wrist was definitely broken. According to the readout on the monitor, he was dehydrated and there was damage to several organs. She was going to need splints and casting material. Saline solution, IV kit, oxygen mask might all be needed also, and perhaps a respirator. Martha was forming up the list when there was a knock on the office door. She looked up and saw it was Gwen. 

“The medical transport is almost here,” Gwen explained. “We could use your help getting him to the entrance. We can’t allow strangers in the infirmary unless we use retcon.”

Martha nodded and stood up, unnecessarily wiping her hands on her lab coat, trying to cover her feeling of guilt over having forgotten about her previous patient. “How is the ambassador doing?” she asked as she made her way to the door. 

“He seems the same,” Gwen replied. “His heart rate slowed when Ianto gave him the retcon, but that’s normal and his oxygen saturation stayed the same.” 

Martha was about to question why Ianto had done that and stopped herself. She knew why. Jack had ordered it and of course he would. _“I should have known,”_ she thought shaking her head. _“For someone who claims to be a rebel, Jack follows security protocols with a zeal to be envied.”_

“Are you alright?” Gwen asked, her hand gently touching Martha’s arm. 

Martha saw Gwen’s sincere concern in her clear hazel eyes. “I’m fine, just a random thought. Let’s get the patient out to the reception.” 

 

While the rest of the team worked on getting the ambassador to the reception. Jack slept, fully clothed, his hand on the device that was the Doctor’s only hope of survival. As he had drifted off to sleep, his desperation caused him to say a silent prayer to any gods that might be listening, though there were none he believed in, for assistance in the task he that lay ahead of him.


	28. Chapter 28

Jack wiped the crud out of his eyes. Four hours of sleep was all that he planned to take and four was what he got. He bent over to pick up the energy extractor and was about to leave his room when he heard footsteps ringing on the stairway outside. He quickly opened the door and saw Gwen descending the staircase. She looked concerned, but not panicked. That at least was a good sign. She stopped halfway down when he stepped into the stairwell. 

“I was just checking to see how you were. Martha’s getting anxious,” she explained.

“Has the Doctor had a change in his condition?” asked Jack as he started up the stairs, taking them two at a time with practiced ease. 

“No,” Gwen moved to one side allowing Jack lead the way as she continued, “nothing beyond the usual pattern. He’s getting weaker, but it hasn’t accelerated. Martha was running some figures and she believes we don’t have much of a safety margin left. If you need it, she does have that stimulant for you.” 

“I don’t,” Jack replied as he entered the control area and looked around. “Did the ambassador get moved?”

“Yes, he was transferred…” 

“Good. Then where’s Martha?”

“She’s in the cell block.”

“What’s she doing there?” Jack asked, not really expecting a reply. He was already at the cell block door and he knew he would soon find out for himself. 

Upon entering the corridor he stopped. It was far brighter than usual and also colder. Not uncomfortably so but definitely cooler than the main control room. Martha was outside Doctor’s cell along with a cart filled with medical supplies. Or at least to Jack they looked like medical supplies, clear tubes of varying diameters, on top of medium blue equipment, white boxes and packets with black and red lettering, and brown plastic bottles. The dead giveaway however, was the hospital gurney complete with IV stand that already had a liter bolus hanging from it. The presence of the supplies also helped explain the acrid odor of bleach and disinfectant, and the unusually clean state of the floor and walls. 

In sharp contrast to the modern medical equipment, there was a narrow worn wooden table across from the Doctor’s cell door. Ianto was in the process of positioning a chair next to it. A worm of guilt entered his thoughts. His people had indeed been busy while he slept. 

Martha looked up when he approached. “Sorry, to get you up,” she apologized. “I didn’t think we could wait any longer.” 

“Don’t worry, I was already up,” Jack assured her. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing specific, he hasn’t moved since you last saw him, but his vital signs are getting weaker. I don’t think we should wait any longer, especially after what happened with the ambassador. We’ve set up everything we can think of. I saw you were having some problems holding the machine and operating it at the same time, so we brought in a table and chair. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jack nodded his approval. “That’s fine. Let’s get started then, shall we?” He set the device on the work table and stepped over to the entrance of the cell putting his hand up to disarm it. A voice stopped him. 

“Is that wise sir?” asked Ianto. 

“I don’t want to accidentally torch the corridor. You have a problem with that?” Jack countered, still unsure of Ianto’s feeling towards the Doctor, how much jealously might cloud his judgment. He rested his hand on the switch, refusing to remove it until he was given cause, while examining his aide for any sign of deception.

“It’s just…” there was a hesitation as the Welshman tried to meet Jack’s harsh glare but repeatedly failed. “It’s just… he was so adamant that we arm it. What if something goes wrong? If he starts to regenerate before we get that creature out. We can close the door quickly, but the arming takes ten seconds to be active.”

Jack shook his head as let his hand fall. It was his own judgment that was clouded, not Ianto’s. “Alright, I’ll leave it armed. You don’t you have any objection to my opening the door, do you?” 

“No sir.” As if to prove his point, Ianto opened it wide. Jack could tell from his detached manner he was covering up the sting of Jack’s doubt. 

“When was the last time you had any sleep?” Jack probed. 

“I’m fine sir”

“No, you’re not.” Jack took him by the elbow and started guiding him to the exit of the cell block. “I want you to get some sleep. And one less person here, is one less distraction I have to worry about.” 

“But sir,” the Welshman protested. “You might need me to help move him after it’s over.” 

“If we do, we’ll call you. I’m not sending you home. Stay close but get some sleep. Use my room if you want.” 

“If you insist.”

“I do.” He watched Ianto leave as he sat down in the chair. That problem tabled for the moment it was time to concentrate on the main issue. Studying the scene in the cell his mouth became dry as his concern increased. There was some blood on the floor, but not enough to explain how pale the Time Lord was. His face was turned towards the door, eyes open, but apparently unseeing. Freckles stood out, even at this distance, against his unnaturally white complexion. There was dark caked blood forming a trail from the corner of his mouth. There was additional blood trailing from his nose. His body was taut, back arched, with arms curled up to his chest, the left one swollen and purple. Jack closed his eyes to the scene, the pain his friend was in was obvious and he was about to cause him more, possibly risk his life. Though he was definitely the most experienced with the device, he also knew, he was a novice. 

Gwen’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Are you alright Jack?”

Jack stretched himself up from the slouch he’d been unaware he’d assumed. “I’m fine, just give me a moment. I’m only going to get one shot at this.”

“We may not have a moment,” Martha interrupted. “The ambassador died shortly after arriving at the hospital, they said it was as if the will to live just left him. The Doctor is in worse shape than he was.”

The captain turned his head sharply towards his subordinate and the medic. “The ambassador died? Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. 

“We didn’t want to disturb you,” Gwen replied. “It’s not like we have a choice. We still have to do the procedure on him. Unless you have another idea?” 

The captain looked down at the device and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“So then rather than wake you, we felt it would be better if we concentrated on getting prepared to take care of the Doctor.” She gestured to the medical equipment and supplies gurney.

Jack nodded. “Okay, you did the right thing. Just stand back now and whatever you do, don’t interrupt me.” He took a deep breath and ran his hand though his hair before running it over the surface of the device and turned it on. 

It was warmer than he remembered or maybe he just didn’t notice the temperature before. The display at least was reassuringly familiar, but what was on it was disturbing. The energies were no longer evenly matched. The green was predominant, overwhelming the yellow, which appeared to be smaller and less bright than before. Jack hoped that was just an illusion, a trick of the lighting. There was a soft moan from the cell, the Doctor was already starting to react to the scan. 

Silently asking the Doctor for forgiveness, Jack started to peel away one of the green tentacles from the yellow. He could hear the thumping and thudding as the Doctor thrashed in the cell. The moans becoming inarticulate cries. Closing his mind off from the sounds Jack concentrated on the screen in front of him. He trapped the first tentacle only to see two new ones start to grow in its place. He had to work faster than he had with the ambassador, or else it would be a race of who was going to give out first, him or the creature. 

 

Breathe, just keep breathing, keep the hearts beating and hang on to the creature, nothing else matters. The Doctor was concentrating on that thought and only that thought. He had to keep his body alive. It was an anchor for his life force and his life force in turn anchored the creature. His staying alive prevented it from transferring to another victim or worse, using his regeneration energy to transform itself. 

He could feel the creature battering at his concentration, trying desperately to break it. It had gotten in once, attacking that part of him that made him a Time Lord and used one of his greatest strengths against him. He’d managed after a time to shield against that attack, or more properly ignore what his warped time sense was telling him. Cutting himself off from the sensation of knowing when and where he was, because it didn’t matter. The creature was with him, unable to harm anyone else while it was. That was what was important. 

Then that buzzing vibration returned, causing him to be aware of the pain that tortured his body as his concentration slipped. He tried to block the vibration out but it was insistent, refusing to be ignored. 

Soon the vibration changed and became more intense. He felt the creature within him struggling fiercely. Why he couldn’t tell. He could feel a small part of it detach. Escape? No it was also increasing its hold on him, hurting him more. His body was trying to escape the pain to no avail. He doubled over from the sharp pain in his gut. Only to have that pain stay with him, while his back felt like it had been stabbed with a molten blade, causing him to arch away from the searing hot torment. 

He was in agony as he tried to reason out what was going on. Was it was splitting. Preparing to plant a seed in someone else, like it had in him? He had to stop it, distract it. He pulled energy from his pain racked body and went on the attack. Trying to get inside the creature, take it over, knowing he wouldn’t succeed, but at least he could stop it from whatever it was planning. 

No, wrong, wrong. Suddenly he felt horribly wrong. There was something… something he was forgetting. He could feel that his body’s movements had changed, it was… convulsing… reacting to something new, his arms were flailing, desperate movement with no purpose, no strength, gravity pulling them back down as exhausted muscles abandoned each movement before its completion, then instinctive desperation moved them again. He felt… he felt… breathless. That was it, breathless. No… no… he’d… quit breathing. 

That was it, when he had tried to attack, he’d over-reached himself and the creature had launched a new attack of its own. He could almost feel the regeneration energy starting. He ceased his assault, paid no attention to the pain, deserted his senses and just concentrated on taking a breath, a single expansion of the lungs to draw in the air and then let them collapse to force it out. One breath taken, now another, he was getting back control. His hearts were racing too fast, whether from the lack of oxygen they had suffered or the creature attacking them he didn’t know, but he had to get them under control, they were losing rhythm, starting to fail. He concentrated on syncing them with his breath, ten beats on the inhale, ten on the exhale. It was an effort to concentrate on forcing the rhythm onto his unwilling hearts. It was so hard to do. He felt the siren song of surrender. He could just stop. Let what happens, happen. He’d been at it too long. It was time for someone else to be the hero. 

He pushed that seductive thought aside as more oxygen entered his system and a small modicum of strength returned renewing his will to fight on. He had to keep breathing, he had to stay alive and hope that there would be a rescue before it was too late. With a final thrust he pushed all sensation from the buzzing aside, and concentrated on one thing, staying alive. 

 

Jack was vaguely aware that the Doctor’s cell had become quiet, there was just the rasping sound of his breathing, what that meant he didn’t have time to consider. The creature was putting up an effective resistance to the extraction and he was making no headway. His speed was such that the creature was only able to get one new tendril out for each one he trapped, so at least he was no longer losing ground, but he had no idea how long he could keep this up. In desperation he tried a new tactic, trapping two at once. They had to require similar movements but finding two wrapped in the same direction was possible. He spread his middle and index fingers on his right hand, manipulating a tendril under each one and tested the method. It worked. At last, he had an advantage. 

He was working quickly and with confidence now. He knew he could defeat the creature. It was just a matter of time. Time he hoped the Doctor still had.


	29. Chapter 29

Shoulders cramped and searing with pain, eyes dry and blurry, sweat dripping down his back, Jack continued to work with the machine which was becoming uncomfortably hot under his hands. There were so many tentacles now, he was having to trap them under the heel of his left hand. 

Sometimes when he peeled off a green tentacle, a yellow one would reach out and attach itself to the green one that was just trapped. The first time it happened Jack panicked. He tried to pull it away and trap it under a separate finger. An awkward move, that caused even more tentacles to reach out and attach themselves, making matters worse. He realized he was left with a choice of releasing the green energy he had trapped completely, starting again from square one, or leaving it be and hoping he could figure out what to do later. He chose to continue and hope an answer to the new dilemma would present itself in time. 

Curiosity born of worry got the better of him after a few more successes with the green energy and he gently nudged a yellow tendril and watched it fall off, rejoining the main body of the Doctor’s life force. He tried it with the rest, the same result. Though it was definitely a success, Jack took it as a bad sign. The Doctor must be losing his strength, his will to continue. 

Now the job was nearing its end, and not a moment too soon. A power alert displayed in the top right corner of the screen, at least it was amber, not mauve, so he still had time, but he didn’t know how much. 

He was untangling the next to last pair, when he saw multiple tendrils of the yellow energy, the Doctor’s energy, reaching out and attaching to the green. Then to his horror, he saw the yellow energy seem to start to lift itself towards the majority of the trapped green energy, as if it was trying to invade it, become a part of it. If he destroyed the creature now, he would destroy the Doctor, leaving his body an empty husk. 

“Martha! Go to the Doctor! Talk to him!” Jack barked. 

“What? Why? What’s going on?” asked Martha, startled at the urgency of the first words she’d heard from Jack in over five hours. Despite her surprise, she rushed into the cell, white coat flying behind her as Jack shouted. 

“He’s trying to merge with the creature. Convince him to let go. Otherwise we’re going to lose him.”

Martha knelt down next to the Doctor. Jack held his breath as the power indicator turned mauve. 

 

Breathing was becoming easier for the Doctor. No longer did he need to constantly think about that normally autonomic function and force each breath to happen. His rib cage and diaphragm would expand and contract on their own. His hearts were beating, though weakly without his constant direction. He could detect a bit of light and shadow, vague shapes but nothing meaningful; he closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the other sensations. His mouth was dry with a vile taste of iron and copper, it was blood, his blood. There was the smell of sweat confirmed by the taut and sticky feel of his skin. Muscles tight and cramped, he forced them to relax. A hoarse gasp emerged from his sore and raw throat, simultaneous with the dull thud of his broken wrist dropping to the floor. 

There was pain, but it was not the over-exaggerated impossible pain that the creature laid on his very nerves, but the pain of real injuries to his body. The stinging pain of the scrapes and cuts, the dull pain from pressure points too long on the concrete, the sharp pain of the broken bones that made him want to stay very still, the sick uncomfortable pressure of damaged organs that made him want to move to find a comfortable position when there was none, the burning pain caused by the toxins in his blood from that damage. 

It was, in an odd way, a relief to feel actual physical pain after the false horrors he’d been subjected to. With hesitation he checked his time sense, it was no longer being played with. Again he could feel the flow of time around him. 

This however might not be a good sign. Why would the creature give up its control? It had the advantage, he’d been losing. He knew it. Why did it give up when it was winning? It was slipping away from him. There was hardly any contact left. Panic rose in him as he sensed Jack nearby, that wrongness of something that could not be. “That must be it,” he thought. The creature was leaving him to go to Jack. It was getting away, about to take over his friend with his endless lives.

While he had the chance and energy, the Doctor turned off the mechanism to regenerate. What he was about to do was a move born of desperation. If he was wrong or failed, he didn’t want the creature to have that resource. Then desperately he reached out with his energy to grip the creature. Pull himself inside of it, and found his living body was still anchoring him. That tether was failing however, if he kept pulling, he could break free, go with the creature. Unencumbered by the weakness of his body, he might be able to control it, prevent it from taking over Jack. And that was a further advantage, Jack would help, the two of them together, they could defeat it. End its threat. He dared to feel triumphant, knowing he finally had a plan to stop the creature that would work. A plan of action, not just holding on and hoping. 

A voice he could barely hear was speaking to him, distracting him. He couldn’t afford to listen to it, he had to keep fighting to stay with the creature, not let it escape him. The voice however was insistent, getting louder. The words were slowly becoming coherent. They were seductive, telling him it was safe. He could let go. The creature would be destroyed when he did. It was what he desired most, which is why he couldn’t trust it. It could be a ruse, the creature making him think he was hearing what he craved to hear. That it was finally over, they had won. He ignored the reassuring words and fought to maintain his hold. 

Then there was a single phrase. Words he knew had to be real. He let go his grip on the creature and allowed his energy to sink back into his body. His diaphragm spasmed forcing air sharply from his lungs, then before he had a chance to recover another spasm occurred. Soon it developed a rapid rhythm as he found himself chuckling at the words, “You can’t go now, who will keep Jack out of trouble.” The creature had no sense of humor that he’d observed. The words were genuine. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to see a very blurry Martha staring at him, grinning ear to ear. He returned a small smile as he said, “Well, I certainly can’t let that happen, now can I?” 

“No, you can’t. Welcome back,” Martha answered her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “Now, hang on it’s not quite over yet.” 

Suddenly it felt like the welcome might have been premature. He screamed as his spine caught fire and was being pulled out of him. He panicked as he had no control over his body again. It wasn’t Martha it was a deception, the creature had won, he couldn’t stop it now. Then the impossible pain was gone, reality was back as he heard a whoop of triumph from Jack. 

“Sorry,” Martha was saying. “It’s really gone now. It’s over. You’re safe.” 

“Good,” was the Doctor’s soft reply as he closed his eyes overcome by weariness and fatigue. All the physical sensations he’d been experiencing were leaving him, being replaced by numbness and lethargy. His breathing was shallow and slow. Too little to sustain him. He was feeling nothing, as if he was floating, so tired. 

Martha was yelling at him, telling him to stay awake, but he had no strength or even desire to respond. Vaguely he was aware he was no longer the one she was addressing. Her tone was more urgent. Something about a cart, shock, crashing. He didn’t care as he slipped off into nothingness.


	30. Chapter 30

Martha barely heard what the Doctor said before his eyes closed. “No, Doctor, don’t go to sleep now,” she urged. “I need you stay awake.” There was no response, not even an eye flutter. She reached for his wrist as she continued to talk to him volume and urgency increasing. “Come on Doctor! Don’t do this to me!” She felt for his artery and found it. She didn't need to look at her watch to tell his pulse was too fast. The skin beneath her fingers was damp, clammy. His chest was barely moving.

“I need that cart in here, now!” Martha yelled, her eyes never leaving her patient. ”I think he’s crashing, going into shock, or what counts as shock for him.” 

She heard Jack’s rapid footsteps followed by the clatter of the cart. She gently lowered the Doctor’s wrist, leaving it to rest on his chest. “I need the green tank, and the package next to it,” she called out over her shoulder. Jack set the tank next to her and handed her the package. She tore open it revealing a mask complete with tubing. She jammed one end of the tubing over the ridged nozzle on the oxygen tank, turning the valve, resulting in the tank giving a satisfying hiss. She then deftly put the mask over the Doctor’s nose and mouth. 

“Now I need the backboard from the hallway, a cervical…uh a neck brace,” Martha corrected herself, using language that Jack would be more likely to understand, “and one of the arm air braces in the cart. 

“You think he fractured his spine?” asked Jack as he started rummaging through the cart. 

“No, but I’m not sure what injuries he has, so I’m taking every precaution.” Martha explained as she continued to examine her patient. His breathing was a little better with the oxygen, but still too shallow and his color hadn’t improved as she had hoped. She fought to keep a tight rein on her emotions, she needed to concentrate on what she must do for him. Not on how she felt for him. 

Jack handed her the air brace, the packet gave off the sharp odor of new plastic, like a child’s beach ball when she tore it open. There was a ripping noise as she opened up the center of it, unsticking the plastic from itself, creating a tube. Since this was just a temporary measure, she slid it on over the Time Lord’s coat sleeve and quickly inflated it. His one obvious break was now immobilized for transport. 

Gwen was holding the backboard awaiting instructions and Jack now had the cervical collar in his hand. Martha reached for the collar first. The device was cold smooth white plastic on the outside and padded on the inside. She slid it carefully around the Doctor’s neck and adjusted it to fit. 

The backboard was next. She moved to the other side of the Doctor and gently rolled him towards her onto his right side while holding his broken arm carefully, ensuring there was no unnecessary movement of the injured limb. “Position the edge of the board right up against him,” she instructed as she took advantage of the Time Lord’s position to adjust the oxygen mask so it was more secure. 

Gwen and Jack did as they were told and Martha rolled the Doctor back onto the board. Soon the straps were done up, the head bumpers secured and the oxygen tank lay between his knees, ready for transport. The Doctor had shown no sign of awareness during the entire procedure. Not even a groan or change in breathing. The only difference was that he was now shivering. She was losing this battle. 

“Is the gurney ready?” Martha asked as she sat back on her heels and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face with the back of her wrist. 

“I think so,” Gwen replied. “I moved it to the middle of the corridor, locked the wheels and put down the sides. Is there anything else that needs doing?”

Martha rewarded her with a brief smile. “No, you did everything right, let’s get him on it.” 

Jack took the head of the backboard as he gestured with his chin for Gwen to take the corner at the foot across from Martha. 

“On a count of three,” instructed Martha, “one, two, three.” The Unit doctor and the Torchwood agents lifted the Time Lord with ease and maneuvered him to waiting the gurney. Once he was on, Martha quickly covered him with a blanket shaking her head at his condition.

“I need a bolus of ringer’s lactate and an IV kit,” she called. 

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Jack asked as he went back to the cart. 

“Trust me Jack, I know what I’m doing,” came her tart reply as she pushed up the Doctor’s sleeve and deftly applied a tourniquet to his right forearm. “I’ve read up on all the tests UNIT ran on him when they had him in their care. They pulled quite a lot of his blood and some was even preserved. His blood is slightly more saline than ours, but ringers will work quite well.”

With a single finger, she lightly traced the veins on the back of his hand trying to determine a good injection site, impatient as the veins responded slowly. But finally a likely candidate appeared, bulging above the surrounding skin. She was tempted to use a pediatric needle but opted for a 16 gauge instead. He was extremely dehydrated and his internal organs were in peril. She wanted fluids in him as quickly as possible. The needle did its work and slid in easily. She removed it, leaving the more flexible and less painful cannula behind. Once the tubing from the bolus was attached she took off the tourniquet and adjusted the plastic clamp to start the flow. 

“Hang that up,” she instructed Jack, handing him the bolus. “I want to make sure that vein holds.”

Jack did as instructed and hung the bolus from the IV stand attached to the gurney. “Is he going to be alright?” he asked.

“Too soon to tell,” replied Martha, keeping her eyes on the IV site. There was no backflow or swelling. The vein appeared to holding. Letting out a long slow breath, she proceeded to tape the cannula and tubing in place as she continued, “I’m going to take it as a good sign that I didn’t need to resuscitate him. Hopefully that remains the case.” Assured that Doctor was now receiving the fluids he needed she turned on Jack. 

“Now where’s the TARDIS?” she demanded. “He needs to be there, not here.” 

“The TARDIS is out of play for the moment,” explained Jack keeping his voice deliberately calm. “She threw him out when he first arrived and hasn’t let anyone near her since.” 

“What? That’s ridiculous! Tell me where she is. She’ll let me in.”

“Martha, when I said she’s not letting anyone in, I meant it. I tried. In fact when I managed to get near her, she killed me.”

“She what?!” cried Martha her tone and wide eyed expression filled with disbelief. 

“She killed me, and since I’m the only one of us who can recover from that, I’m not letting anyone else try, including you. So let’s get him to the infirmary and you can continue your treatment there.”

Martha’s shoulders slumped as she nodded her understanding. “I wish you had installed a lift into that room,” she complained. “It’s ridiculous that we have to transport patients up and down those stairs.” 

“It was meant more for specimens than patients,” explained Jack as he started pushing the gurney out of the cell block. The clank and clatter of the thing as it hit each seam of the floor providing an odd back drop to the discussion. “We’ve just let it double as an infirmary since I started living here. Technically I’m supposed to transfer all human patients to the local hospital or UNIT.”

“And do you do that?”

“We avoid it as much as possible. Security. If one person turns up at an A&E ranting specifics about here it’s not a problem. A continuous stream however… We try to Retcon but there is always a chance we miss some passing orderly or cleaning person.”

As they left the cell block with the Doctor they found Ianto waiting for them, holding what appeared to be handles attached to nothing. “I thought I told you to get some rest,” snapped Jack. 

“I did get a little, but then when I heard you moving him to the gurney, I thought you might be able to use these,” Ianto explained hurt from the rebuke apparent in his voice.

Jack sighed. He should have realized his aide would be monitoring what was going on. “Alright, so what are these things?”

“They’re from Torchwood One. A kind of anti-gravity device. They reduce the weight of anything you attach them to.”

“You knew about these all along?” accused Gwen. “We could have used them at least when we had to get the ambassador up the stairs!” 

“I’d forgotten about them,” Ianto started in his defense.

“Let’s not worry about that, now” Jack intervened. “Let’s just get them attached and working.”

The technology was one Jack apparently was vaguely familiar with and he attached them with relative ease. After that, the chore of getting the Doctor safely down into the infirmary was trivial. While the gurney didn’t quite float, it was more a matter of guiding it than any real lifting. Martha went on ahead to prepare the bed leaving the transport of the Doctor to Gwen and Jack. 

The transfer to the bed in the infirmary went without incident. Martha sighed with relief when the scanner there showed that the Doctor’s spine was intact so the cervical collar and backboard could be removed. The other information it displayed was not so comforting. She looked down at his ashen face, covered with tiny beads of sweat, and dried blood the later indicative of internal bleeding which the scans confirmed. She picked up a bandage scissors, the instruments could only tell her so much. 

“What are you intending to do with those?” Ianto asked. 

“Cut his clothes off,” Martha answered.

“Here, let me.” Ianto held out his hand. “I’ve seen what Accident and Recovery does to clothing. I expect the Doctor would like to be able wear these again.”

“There’s no time. He can get another suit,” Martha argued.

“I can do it just as fast as you can. Just give me the scissors.” Ianto continued to hold out his hand. 

Martha slowly shook her head in defeat, she had to admit the Doctor was proud of his clothes, despite the disheveled way he wore them. Reluctantly, she handed Ianto the disputed instrument. She had a spare she could use if his way proved too slow. There was a rapid popping sound as Ianto used the scissors to rip down the seams of the trousers, allowing them to be removed quickly with minimum movement of the patient. She had to admit it he was just as quick as she would have been. 

“Alright, you’re fast,” Martha admitted. “If I take the air cast off, can you cut off the jacket and shirt, and not jar his arm?”

“Of course,” replied Ianto not looking up from his work. 

Martha deflated the cast and carefully removed it, then relieved of the duty of unclothing the Doctor, she busied herself examining each newly exposed body part His legs were shades of yellow, purple and black, badly bruised from the hard floor of the cell and the fits he had experienced, there were also numerous abrasions and minor lacerations. The good news was that his reflexes were intact, though the response was weak. 

“I can’t save this shirt, it’s flat seamed it will take too long,” Ianto explained, his voice edged with disappointment, “but I think I know where I can get him another just like it.” 

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Jack assured him. “You’ve saved the suit after all. He should appreciate that. If he notices.”

Martha covered the Doctor’s legs with a sheet and looked up to see a totally deconstructed suit heaped on the counter as Ianto made quick work of the shirt. She wondered how that pile of rags could be turned back into anything worth wearing, much less a suit, before turning her attention back to her patient. 

Ianto picked up the rags and turned to Jack. “If you don’t need me sir, I’d like to get to work repairing this,” 

“No, you need to get some sleep first,” countered Jack. “Go home and come back when you have slept yourself out. The suit can wait.” 

“But…”

“No buts, get some rest. Gwen, Martha and I can handle this, and…” Jack looked over at the Doctor. “He’s not going to be needing his suit for a while.”

“As you wish sir.” Ianto left the room still carrying the clothes and in a sullen mood. Jack watched him sadly. They had all been working too hard and they were too short staffed. If Ianto didn’t get some sleep now Gwen might not be able get her rest later. That Ianto didn’t realize that, showed how tired he was. 

Martha hung several more boluses that fed into the IV line. Each line going through a machine that delivered those medications at a measured rate. She was frustrated. There really wasn’t much she could do but provide supportive care. She gathered the materials she needed to cast the Doctor’s broken arm.

“How’s he doing?” Jack asked. Martha looked down at her patient, the bruises stood out against the pale, almost translucent skin. She tried to keep her emotions under control as she swallowed hard and forced her medical detachment back to the fore. 

“Jack, I’m not going to lie, he’s in a serious condition. He has extensive internal organ damage. What concerns me more than that though,” she glanced at a monitor, “is his brain function. It’s as if his brain had suffered an insult of some kind. If we have someone show up in A&E like this with a donor card…” She didn’t finish the sentence. “But, he’s breathing on his own, and that gives me hope. He’s getting rehydrated, and I’ve added glucose and a few other items to the drip to give him some energy and nutritional support. It’s going to be up to him now, unless we can get him into the TARDIS.” She looked at the captain meaningfully. 

“Right I’ll get on that,” Jack replied, as he turned and ran up the stairs. 

Martha watched him go. The TARDIS had to let them in now. It was the best and possibly the only chance the Doctor had. 

“Do you need any help?” Gwen asked, a concerned but hopeful look on her face. 

Martha nodded. Even just some companionship right now would be useful. And it was time to take care of the Doctor’s arm. It was still not set properly. “Actually I do, this arm’s displaced and once I put it back in alignment I could use your help to keep it straight. Are you up for that?” 

“Yes certainly,” she answered with a quick nod. “I’ve had some training. Just tell me what to do.” 

“Good,” Martha replied with a smile then turned her attention to the task at hand. The wrist itself was swollen and purple. The scan showed it was just a simple fracture, nothing that required plating. That was a relief. She considered if she should administer an analgesic while she set it. A quick glance and the monitors told her that would be unnecessary. At his current brain function levels she could crack his chest and he wouldn’t feel a thing. She went to work on reducing the break. It was a distal fracture of what would be the radius and ulna in a human. The broken ends found each other without difficulty and set in place. She very gently eased up on the tension to see if the arm would stay and let out a long sigh when it did. 

“Is everything alright?” Gwen asked. 

“Yes,” Martha replied, “for once something’s going our way. We should be able to cast this without too much trouble. Come over here and I’ll show you how need to hold it for me.”

Gwen was a quick study and with her help Martha was able to swiftly cast the Doctor’s arm. “We’ll most likely have to do this again in a few days,” she explained to Gwen as she removed her gloves. 

Gwen furrowed her brows and looked at Martha quizzically. “Why?”

“It’s swollen now and once it starts to heal and the swelling goes down it’s not going to fit any more.”

“Ah, that makes sense. What do we do now?”

Martha scrutinized the Doctor. She had taken care of what major items that she could. He was covered in sweat and blood. It was time to take care of that. She looked around the room, and shrugged, a heating cabinet would have been too much to ask for. “Is there a dryer around?”

“A dryer?”

“Yes, I need some warmed blankets to get his temperature up. They can be warming in the dryer while we clean him up.” 

“There is a small one. I don’t think it can hold more than one blanket.” 

“That’s a start. Get this one going and when you get back, we’ll clean him up.” Martha handed Gwen a cotton blanket that she felt would hold up well to the heat of the dryer. 

With Gwen on her errand Martha at last was alone and could let her professional demeanor drop. She stared at the Doctor, one hand on the bed rail feeling like ice under her hand. Her other hand covering her mouth as she shook her head and blinked away the tears. He looked like death. There was none of that spark, that spirit that she loved. Just a pale blank unmoving body. The monitors confirmed what she felt. She brushed his hair from his face, her fingers feeling the grease and particles of dirt that clumped the stands together. She grimaced as she made a mental note to get some dry shampoo in. She laid the back of her hand against his cheek. Cold, colder than even he should be.

Her throat was tight as she turned her attention to the IV line and the boluses attached to it. She told Jack she knew what she was doing. She hoped she hadn’t been lying to him. The cocktail she was giving was based on files she had seen at UNIT, constructed from knowledge of what the Doctor ate and tests that had been run on his blood. What she had, should provide some support and aid him in getting through his current crisis. She prayed desperately it wouldn’t hurt him. She wished she had someone to consult with, but in this, she was the only expert. 

At the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening, she pushed her fears and uncertainties aside, turned to the counter as she wiped away her tears, washed her hands and readied what she needed to continue treating the Doctor. 

A couple of plastic basins thumped hollowly on the counter. They were joined by stacks of disposable wash clothes, plastic backed pads, a mild disinfectant soap, and an antibiotic ointment. She filled one of the basins with warm, almost hot water. 

“Do you need anything?” asked Gwen coming up behind her. 

“That table over there.” Martha indicated a small metal table on wheels normally used for surgical instruments. 

Gwen brought it over and without being asked loaded it with the two basins and the rest of the supplies Martha had brought out. “So where do we start?” she asked. “Head or the feet?”  
“Head,” replied Martha. “I know I’ll feel better once I get that blood off his face.” 

The two women went to work. Using the plastic backed pads to prevent the bed from getting damp. Quickly they developed a system where Gwen would clean and Martha would treat the minor lacerations and abrasions the time in the cell had caused. Soon the job was over. The sheets were changed and Gwen left to get the heated blanket. 

The fresh smell of soap lifted Martha’s spirits. The Doctor’s complexion even looked a little better. A quick look at the monitors however, told her that was an illusion, any change was purely cosmetic. The cleanup had been more for her morale than for his health. His body shuddered briefly almost dislodging the sheet that covered him. She smoothed the bed clothes, cool and smooth to the touch, back into place, wondering what the shudder meant. Was it something starting? Something ending? Something healing? Something failing? The monitors showed no change. Whatever it was they couldn’t measure or detect it.

She touched his arm and felt the hair standing more erect, the rough goose bumps on his skin as his body making a vain attempt to fluff fur that evolution had denied him. Gwen had taken the other blanket with her to put in the dryer. Her lab coat was at least warm from her own body heat. She took it off and laid it over him. Inadequate as a cover, but would have to do till Gwen returned. 

She picked up a simple plastic comb and applied it to his hair. They might not be able to wash it but at least she could make it look neat. Again more for her benefit than his. The comb slid smoothly through his hair aided by the oils that had built up. After only a few strokes the comb was dirty. She took an alcohol wipe to clean it. That would dry faster than soap and water. Since the Doctor was cold she didn’t want his head wet. She continued in the same way for a few minutes. Then heard footsteps on the stairs. Gwen with the warmed blanket. 

“He does looked better now,” Gwen commented as she handed the blanket to Martha. 

Martha looked down at the Doctor and laid the blanket on top of him. “Yes, he doesn’t look quite so bad now, and…” she paused as she smoothed the blanket wishing he could feel its soothing warmth as she did, “just having everything smell clean helps. With my morale at least.” 

“Mine too,” responded Gwen with a smile and a bright promise of friendship in her eye. “I don’t know, for some reason now I think he might have a chance. I didn’t before.”

Martha studied the monitors which told her she had no right to the optimism she felt. She temporized however for the other woman’s sake. “He has a chance, a small one. I’d feel better if the ambassador had survived. Or we had access to the TARDIS.” She turned back to Gwen, puzzled. “Where is Jack anyway? Is the TARDIS that far away?” 

“No it’s actually quite close. Parked at the water tower. It just takes a while to get to it.”

“The water tower? But I looked when I drove here, I always do, just in case.”

“Did you?” Gwen asked. “Are you sure?”

Martha was about to respond and stopped. She couldn’t remember actually looking for the TARDIS. She rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember what had distracted her from checking the Plass as she had driven by. “No, I’m not.” Concern was apparent in her voice. 

Gwen put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s not you, it’s the TARDIS,” she explained softly. “It’s preventing people from noticing it and is somehow pushing people away. From what Jack has said you have to not think about getting to it to get to it.”

“I’m not sure I understand but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“I didn’t really understand either, but it works for him apparently. Is there anything else we need to do? 

“No the scrub up was the last step,” Martha replied with a smile. “Thank you for your help.”

“A scrub up?” came a voice from the top of the stairs. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I’d have helped. It would have beat waking up in that ambulance.”

“Jack! Can you just for once…” Martha shook her head and didn’t finish the question. She knew the answer. He couldn’t. He was what he was. Instead she asked the question she didn’t know the answer to. “Wait. Why did you wake up in an ambulance?”

“Concerned citizen apparently,” Jack explained as he descended the stairs. “The TARDIS threw me out of the perception filter zone. Someone called the rescue squad. They almost went off the road when I woke up on them. Then I had to pull my gun out to get them to let me go.” His voice turned serious when he was next to the Doctor’s bed. “I’m sorry Martha, the TARDIS is still out of the question. How’s he doing?”

“We’re having to use warmed blankets on him,” Martha explained as her hopes for a speedy recovery for her patient in the TARDIS sank. “He doesn’t appear to be regulating his temperature properly.” She slid her hand under the blanket and felt his arm. The hair was flat, the goose bumps gone. “The blanket seems to be working. Any chance we can get a warming cabinet in here.”

“I’ll check on that. What else is going on with him?” 

“Nothing Jack, Literally nothing. His life signs are perfectly stable. He’s not getting worse but he’s not healing either. All we can do is watch, keep him on the oxygen and fluids, keep him warm. I don’t know what else to do. It’s up to him.”

Jack stared at the Doctor, Martha could tell he was wondering the same thing she was. Was the Doctor coming back? Or was this immobile body the last they would see of him. 

“Martha,” he said quietly. “I need you to get some sleep. I’ll take over for now. We’ll get you a room nearby.”

“Jack, no, I need to stay here. What if he has a pulmonary crisis and he needs to be intubated? You can’t handle that. Besides you must be more tired than I am. It’s you who should get some sleep.” 

“I must be the only boss who has a problem getting his people to take a break,” the captain complained with a sigh. “I’m fine, side effect of being dead, I don’t come back tired. So, since you won’t go to a hotel, how about we set up a cot in this room for you. I’m sure alarms will sound and wake you if he gets worse. Will that work for you?” 

“Yes, that will be fine,” she replied knowing there was no way she could sleep, but just lying down could help and would stop Jack from worrying about her. 

“Good, we’ll set that up. Anything else you need?”

Martha smiled and said through a yawn, “I could use another warm blanket for him.” 

“I’ll go get it,” offered Gwen and she ran up the stairs. 

Soon the Doctor was under a fresh blanket, and a military cot was set up at one end of the room, complete with rough wool blankets and an almost flat pillow. Jack had shrugged when Martha examined them. “What can I say, I kept them from my RAF days,” he apologized.

“I’m surprised they survived.” Martha rejoined with a wry smile. “They’ll be okay. Reminds me a bit of my training in UNIT.”

The captain returned her smile. “So time for you to rest?” It was phrased as a friendly question but Martha knew it was an order.

“I just have to check the IV and the oxygen tank. Then, I promise, I’ll take a break.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then,” Jack’s eyes fell on the Doctor, his hand started to move towards the bed but stopped. Instead, he turned away and started up the stairs, Gwen following him.

A couple of the boluses were running low and needed to be swapped out. Martha took care of that, then checked the oxygen which needed no adjustments. She did one final check of the monitors which disappointingly showed no change, and then there was nothing left to do. The lights dimmed, Martha sat on the cot and took off her shoes before lying down on her side so she could watch the Doctor. She let her eyes close. For just a few seconds she told herself. But physical and emotional exhaustion had its way and sleep took her.


	31. Chapter 31

Jack had spent the night in frustration, switching from checking the monitors in the infirmary for any sign of change in the Doctor’s condition, to scanning the skies for any alien threat that might take his mind off the Doctor’s current situation. Unfortunately aliens seemed to have no interest in the Earth that night, not even the random joy riding teenager appeared. The rift was quiet and even the police scanner had nothing of interest. 

In fact, the only activity seemed to be Gwen, who after using the anit-grav handles to move the medical supply cart from the cell block to the infirmary, busied herself rearranging equipment and cabinets in the main Hub area. Her activity produced an almost steady clank and clatter throughout the night. He didn’t agree with all of her changes, but rather than protest, he decided could change them back later. He suspected some of the moves were simply a chance on her part to exercise the freedom the handles gave her. 

Jack stretched his arms up over his head and leaned back in his chair, the increased pressure against his shoulders brought some needed relief from the tightness that had developed. His clasped hands dropped down behind his head which pressed back against them as his elbows drove forward. The kinks out, he relaxed and let his hands drop to his lap, before reaching forward for his coffee cup. It was cold in his hand as was the contents. 

He stared that the multi-colored oily film swirling on top of the dark liquid as he thought about what to do next. The Doctor didn’t need his help. He wished he did, he wished there was something he could do. He hated the sit and wait position he was in. With a sigh he shook his head, there was nothing he could do about it. There was however something that did need to be dealt with, Mr. Fisher. Frank had been cluttering up his cell block for far too long. Time to get rid of him, but how. 

The sanitation cell the Doctor had been in was overdue for a live test. He briefly considered the idea. It would be appropriate considering Frank had been playing with the controls when the Doctor was in it. He sighed and shook his head. Unfortunately Frank’s father was too high up in the government and his disappearance could result in some unpleasant scrutiny. So he was going to have to come up with something else. Something that would explain the MI5 bureaucrat’s long absence and not implicate Torchwood. 

He went on his computer and started checking for what assets he had available in the area. He wanted Frank controlled and he also wanted him out of Cardiff. He had more important things to do than dance with the idiot. Frank’s second wasn’t as ego driven, and would make a good replacement. Now what to do with Mr. Fisher? 

A plan was starting to form in Jack’s mind when he heard the front door. He checked the monitor and saw Ianto was back. Earlier than Jack would have liked, but his return was welcome. He needed Ianto’s assistance in working out the details of his plan. 

His aide went past Jack’s office without stopping, and proceeded right on to the coffee mess. Jack smiled as he saw the Welshman shake his head at the disarray and pour out the contents of the current pot, his nose wrinkled in disgust. Pushing back from his desk, Jack stood and expressed the same disdain for cold stale state of his current cup of coffee. Time for a refill and a strategy session. 

Ianto looked up and smiled when he saw Jack approaching. “I’ll have a fresh pot in just a few minutes. How’s the Doctor doing?”

“No change,” Jack replied. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ianto took Jack’s cup and proceeded to wash it, the smell of dish soap became layered on top of the smell of the coffee. “Is there anything I can do?”

“For the Doctor? No, but I have something I could use your help with.”

“Yes?” Ianto dried the cup and poured fresh coffee in it for Jack.

“It’s Frank, I want to dispose of him before the Doctor wakes up.” Jack added a silent, unspoken _‘if he wakes up’_ to the end of the sentence as he took the cup from Ianto.

“Dispose?” Ianto raised his eyebrows.

“Unfortunately not that way, unless you know of something that might work?” Jack himself wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not. 

“Not for that, but I have been doing some research, I was going to run some ideas by you. I can’t keep him sedated forever.”

“Why not? No, don’t answer that. Did you manage to get some Retcon into him?” 

“Yes sir, he shouldn’t remember anything and I did report to MI5 that he had gone missing.”

Jack sipped his coffee, enjoying the nutty flavor with an overtone of chocolate. His spirits were lifted by it along with the renewed knowledge that Ianto was good for far more than the brewing of the beverage. “Perfect, let’s go over these ideas of yours. I have a few of my own. Maybe they’ll mesh up.”

“What about Gwen? Should I send her home?” 

Jack looked around at the reorganized office, Gwen was nowhere to be seen, nor were the handles. Who knew what she was rearranging now. “Yes, send her home and tell her to leave those handles here.” Jack felt he was doing more than just enforcing the Torchwood rule against taking alien tech home, he was doing Rhys a favor with that last order. Tripping over moved furniture on the way to your morning coffee was not a pleasant way to start the day. 

Ianto left to find Gwen. Jack, glancing at the monitors saw that Martha was up. He poured a second cup of coffee with a dash of cream as she liked it and headed to the infirmary. 

Martha was working when Jack entered and didn’t look up. Rather than disturb her, Jack watched from the top of the stairs. The Doctor’s arm and part of his chest was exposed. Martha picked up a bottle of lotion and deposited some in her hand, then rubbed her hands together before applying it to the Time Lord’s bare skin. She worked methodically not pressing hard like a massage, but a smoothing motion that distributed the lotion evenly. Once the lotion was applied on the exposed area, she took his arm and raised it up over her patient’s head and then back next to his body. She then took his arm out to the side in a large arc until it was back over his head again. The pattern continued this way with each joint bending and straightening them. The fingers she curled into a fist, then straightened and splayed them, pushing them as far apart from each other as she could, before returning the hand to its resting place and covering up the area she had been working on. 

Jack realized the coffee in his hand was getting cold and cleared his throat as Martha was pushing the sheets from the Doctor’s leg from the hip down. “Is there a queue?” he inquired as he descended the stairs. 

Martha looked up and smiled at him as she shook her head. “For receiving or administering?” she replied as she started to apply the lotion to the exposed leg. 

“If I have a choice, I’ll take both. What are you doing anyway? It’s not like he’s awake to enjoy this.” Jack smiled and held out the cup of coffee. 

“I doubt he would enjoy it, or even let me do it, if he was awake,” replied Martha as she finished applying lotion to the leg before reaching for the offered coffee and taking a sip. “His skin is dry. I can at least help with that. Give his body one less thing to deal with.” 

“And all the bending?”

“Range of motion, helps a little with blood flow and keeps the joints flexible so when he comes out of this he isn’t stiff.” Putting the coffee down on the counter she went back to treating the Doctor, flexing the hip, knee and ankle joints. 

Jack watched patiently while she finished her work and allowed her another sip of coffee before asking, “Has there been any improvement?”

Martha sighed. “Not that the instruments show. But there is one thing.” She set the coffee down on the counter and walked over to the bed. She pushed back the bed clothes from his arm. On his upper arm was a bluish purple spot ringed greenish brown. “That was red yesterday like the others around it. But it’s healing now, maybe it means other things will start healing soon.”

Jack studied the bruise. Such a small sign. Just one bruise out of many. It was grasping at straws, but right now he would take even a single straw no matter how weak and soggy. His thoughts were broken into by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He looked up, expecting to see Ianto but instead it was Gwen, carrying a blanket. 

“Why, aren’t you on your way home?” Jack questioned. 

“I am, as soon as I deliver this,” Gwen answered. She looked over at Martha. “I’ve been changing them out all night. Did I do the right thing?”

Martha smiled nodded. “Yes, you did and you must have been very quiet about it. I slept much longer than I thought I would.” 

“I tried not to disturb you. I checked with Ianto by the way, and he’s going to get one of those warming cabinets. It should be here this afternoon. Give the dryer a break at least.”

“If you two ladies are done chatting,” Jack interrupted as he took the blanket from Gwen and handed it to Martha, “it’s time for Gwen to go home.”

“Alright, I’ll go, but why can’t I take the handles with me? It’s not like they’re dangerous.”

“You know the rules, plus I want to you to get some rest. If you took them with you, you wouldn’t. So come on, get going.” He put his hands on Gwen’s shoulders and turned her towards the stairs. Gwen needed no further urging and left. 

Jack turned to see Martha back at work. She had swapped the blankets and had rolled the Doctor onto his side, using the other blanket as a bolster to hold him in that position. 

“You’re worried about bedsores?” Jack asked. 

Martha arranged the sheet and blanket, and combed the Doctor’s hair back in place with her fingers as she replied, “He’s bony enough to get them easily and I don’t know how long he is going to be in this condition.” 

Jack nodded his understanding. “It looks like you have everything under control here then. Ianto and I may have an errand to run later. Will you be okay without us?”

Martha sighed as she sat down on a small black stool, still staring at the Doctor. “Yes, I’ll be fine. There’s really not much I can do for him at this point. It’s just watching and trying to support him any way I can. But…” She put her hand to her forehead and unnecessarily smoothed back her hair with it as she looked down at the floor, her voice choked with emotion, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Jack, I have to be honest, he may not come out of this. I know what I would be telling someone in my position, but this is the Doctor and I have to keep hoping.”

Jack walked over and put his arm around her shoulders, for a moment she stiffened and resisted, then she relaxed into him. “I’ve seen the Doctor do incredible things,” he assured her with more confidence than he felt. “I don’t believe your hope is as unreasonable as you think. You’re doing a great job. If anyone can pull him out of this it’s you.” He stepped away and turned her on the stool to face him. With a single finger he chucked her under the chin and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. 

“When did you eat last?” he asked.

Martha blinked and stammered at the unexpected question, “Uh… I…”

Jack smiled. “That’s what I thought. I’ll have Ianto get you some breakfast before we go. They should have taught you in medical school to take care of yourself as well as your patient. Is there anything else you need?”

“I only have enough of the IV fluids for another day. I’ll write up a list and if you could get some waterless shampoo.”

“How about a shaving kit?” Jack suggested.

“Yes that would be good. Thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to take care of him.”

 

Ianto was already preparing a tray when Jack returned to the office area. On it was eggs, bacon, some hash browns and toast. “Where you listening in?” Jack accused light heartedly, trying to counter the seriousness of the situation. 

“Actually no, I saw she was up and knew there was no food down there. I also took the liberty of ordering your breakfast. Given the state of the coffee, I doubted you’d eaten.”

“You’re right, I hadn’t. By the way, Martha has a few items she wants, a shaving kit, dry shampoo and the rest will be on a list she’s writing up.”

“I have a spare shaving kit here. I’ll have to check around for dry shampoo.”

“If you can find some she’d appreciate it. She’s trying to get him squeaky clean. When he comes out of this I don’t think he’s going to need a shower for a year.”

Ianto placed a fresh cup of coffee on the tray and picked it up. “I’ll be right back, your breakfast is in your office.”

In his office, Jack found a couple of wrapped breakfast sandwiches. He ate absentmindedly with one hand while operating his computer with the other, continuing his search for a solution to the Frank problem. The one idea he’d had earlier didn’t really pan out. Another on further consideration was too risky. For him, not Frank. There was however one possibility. He actually started to smile, it could work out very well.


	32. Chapter 32

The metal door crashed open with such force that it rebounded off the wall adjacent to it. Weapon drawn Jack shouldered it aside and entered the small drab room. He quickly surveyed it with a practiced eye. The stained gray walls, exposed piping, bare light bulb protected by a steel cage, the incredible eye watering stench like a mix of urine and carnivore waste, all registered and filed away in his memory. He was focused on the furthest corner of the room, where dressed in a grey boilersuit, curled up in fetal position, facing the wall, was the intended audience for all the drama, Frank, silent and unmoving. Jack holstered his gun and ran to him, cursing under his breath. They had meant to scare him, not kill him. 

His hand on Frank’s shoulder triggered a reaction that alleviated his worst fears and required his immediate attention. The MI5 member demonstrated he hadn’t been totally neglecting his martial arts training by snatching Jack’s wrist and throwing him into the wall. That initial assault was followed by a kick of surprising force that only Jack’s quick reactions prevented from being disabling. Instead it connected solidly with the wall. The Torchwood leader rolled to his feet and dodged a leg sweep. Frank’s eyes were wild with no recognition in them. Jack wasted no time, feinted left, and then dashed around behind Frank to the right. Due to Frank’s agitated state it worked and soon Jack had him pinned to the ground.

“Frank!” Jack’s voice was urgent but low as his captive continued to struggle. “It’s me, Jack! Normally I’d enjoy a little tussle in the afternoon, but there’s no time. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

At the sound of Jack’s words, Frank quit struggling, but was still tense. “Jack, is it really you?” His voice was horse, desperate.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here to rescue you. Unless you want to keep fighting.”

“No, no, I don’t. You can let go of me.”

Jack slowly released his hold on Frank and stood up, prepared to fend off another attack if need be. Frank rolled over to face him. “You alright now?” Jack asked. “I don’t want to have to knock you out.” 

“Yes, I’m okay,” replied Frank, he let out a deep breath and started to stand. There was a gasp of pain as he put weight on his right foot. Jack caught him before he could fall and helped him to his feet, placing Frank’s right arm over his shoulders.

“Can you walk?” asked the captain hoping he wouldn’t have to carry him out. That would really mess up the plan. 

“Yeah, but I’ll need to lean on you for a bit.” Frank took a little hop step forward as Jack helped him toward the door. “That kick to the wall set off the arthritis in my foot.”

“Arthritis? At your age?” 

“Childhood injury come back to haunt me,” explained Frank. “It’s why I was taken off of field work.” He looked around at his surroundings with a scowl. “So where is this place? The last thing I remember was us entering Torchwood with the ambassador.”

“Later, they could be coming back at any moment. We don’t want to be here when they do.” Frank froze at that last statement. “Come on Frank don’t do this now.” Jack’s charge shook his head as if trying to clear it.

“Sorry,” came Frank’s reply breathless as he stepped forward, leaning heavily on Jack, “I… I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. I don’t remember anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack assured him. “Amnesia is common in these circumstances. Just keep quiet now. I need to listen as we go. I don’t want to accidently run into one of them.”

Frank nervously nodded his understanding as they moved forward. Jack stopped at the door and listened before turning to the left. The corridor was darker in that direction, only one third the bulbs were lit. The walls were damp and the sounds of their footsteps echoed against them. After about a hundred meters they encountered a banged up metal door on the right. A large white sign with red letters cautioned that only authorized personnel were allowed through. Jack yanked it open, despite its age and deterioration it was surprisingly quiet, the dim light from the corridor revealed a tiny landing, and a steep narrow staircase whose depth was concealed by the darkness. 

“We’re going down there?” Frank whispered incredulously.

“No choice, it’s the only way out,” Jack explained keeping his voice low. “Can you make it using that hand rail, it’s only one person wide here. I can’t be next to you for this. You’ll have to do it on your own.”

“If that railing holds I can make it.” Frank gingerly put his bad foot on the floor and winced but didn’t immediately lift it. 

“Alright, I’ll go first,” Jack explained, “you follow right behind me. Just give me a warning if you are about to fall and I’ll brace myself.” Jack hoped that would work and not cause them to both wind up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. With the door shut, the light seeping around it was the only defense against the darkness. The first step was barely visible, the second wasn’t.

“Didn’t you bring a torch,” hissed Frank as they started down the stairs. 

“Can’t use it here, they might see it. Now keep quiet.” 

The progress down the stairs was slow. There was an uneven sound of shoe clad feet, accompanied by an ominous metallic creak each time Frank used the railing for support. After about twenty stair steps Frank gasped. Jack quickly pressed a hand against the rough walls on either side of him, not trusting the railing to handle the weight of both of them. Frank’s hand landed on his shoulder like a blow and stayed for a few seconds then Jack felt Frank push himself upright. Crisis averted. “Sorry, I trusted that foot when I shouldn’t of,” was the contrite explanation. 

“That’s okay, we only have a few more steps,” whispered Jack. 

“How can you tell? I can’t see a thing.”

“We have to be, I’ve just hit the end of the railing. Yeap, we’re here.” Jack held Frank’s forearm to steady him for the final step then resumed his role as a human crutch. “We’ve got a ways to go still before we’re out of their territory. There’s going to be more stairs. Are you up for it?”

“If the alternative is leaving me here, then I am.” 

“Good.” Jack smiled in the dark, it was working out better than he had hoped. He started on a circuitous route through the sewers and abandoned underground structures, crisscrossing their path many times, taking multiple stairways, all to confuse the MI5 agent and ensure he never found his own way back. Frank for his part was being a trooper. Not questioning their route and occasionally testing his bad limb, trying to put weight on it. When he pushed it too much, he’d give out a short cry of pain but clamped down on it quickly. The weight Jack felt on his shoulders gradually eased as either the foot got better or Frank learned to deal with the pain. Jack wasn’t sure which, but was starting to feel a little guilty over what he was putting the agent through. 

Then Jack’s cleverness caught up with them. There was movement at the far end of the passageway. Jack saw it and recognized the familiar gait. He swiftly pulled Frank into a narrow side alcove and held his gun at the ready, trying to stay calm as a Weevil drew near. It stopped close to their hiding place and sniffed. Jack knew the dank smell of the passageway wouldn’t cover their scent as he watched the weevil move its bulbous ridged head slowly from side to side as if it was scanning the very air itself. He was sure they were about to be found, when there was a clatter and a crash. The creature turned towards it and headed off down the corridor, his bare feet slapping against the damp floor. As the sound retreated Jack breathed a sigh of relief. 

“What was that?” whispered Frank after it was gone. 

“Later, we need to move fast now.” 

There was no more time for games, Jack grabbed Frank and hauled him limping down the corridor as fast as he could, taking the most direct route to alley that was his goal. Upon emerging through a manhole cover that had been conveniently removed, he saw the SUV with Ianto standing by it. He signaled for him to come over. He noticed his aid was winded as he helped get Frank up the access ladder and on to the alley. As Jack suspected, the noise that had distracted the Weevil hadn’t just been a fortunate coincidence. 

“Is he alright sir?” Ianto asked as he assisted Jack in getting Frank into the SUV. 

“I think so, he has a bum foot and is shook up. Nothing unusual considering he was with them long enough for…” Jack didn’t finish the sentence as he closed Frank’s door.

“I was in there long enough for what?” Frank shouted. 

The Torchwood members ignored him as they entered the vehicle. Ianto behind the wheel. Jack riding shotgun. He hadn’t fully settled in his seat when Frank reached for his arm and pulled Jack towards him. “What do you mean, long enough? What happened to me?” Franks voice was fearful and desperate.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing you won’t recover from. We’ve managed to rescue a few others like you. Most had amnesia, a couple didn’t, that’s how we know what goes on. I told you not to leave the Hub alone at night.”

“I left the Hub? What would I leave the Hub? I was there to make sure the ambassador arrived safely.”

Jack just shook his head. “You insisted on calling back to your headquarters,” he lied, ”and was afraid we would listen in. You even avoided the CCTV cameras. That’s when they must have gotten you. Lucky, they had you near one of the sensors we have in the sewer system, that’s how we were able to locate you. Otherwise…” Jack frowned as he let the sentence trail off.

“But who had me? Why did they want me?”

“Umm… well…” Jack rubbed the back of his neck for effect. “Might be better if you didn’t know. Truth doesn’t always set you free.” 

“Jack, please, tell me. Who had me and why?” 

Thrilled that this con was going so well, Jack relented and answered the question. “It’s not really who, but what. The Weevils had you.”

“Weevils? Bugs had me?” 

“No, humanoids, nasty looking creatures, ridged heads, black eyes, sharp teeth”

“Like that thing that almost found us?”

“That was one of them. It was probably looking for you.”

Frank leaned back, wedging himself against the seat and door of the car. “What would they want me for?” The words came slow and deliberate as if he was having to force them from his throat.

“Breeding,” was Jack’s short, matter of fact reply. 

Eyes wide, mouth open, Frank choked out his next question. “You’re saying they used me for breeding? What, with other humans?” his voice contained a small glimmer of hope at the last question. Hope that was quickly snuffed out by Jack.

“No, with weevils. They have something that confuses humans. Makes them…” Jack didn’t finish the sentence. “We’ve seen half-breds, all young ones, so this is something relatively new.” Jack smiled at Frank. “Look at it this way. At least they don’t know about the court system and child support. You were there long enough you might have a bit of a brood forming.”

“Half-breds? You’ve seen them? How could you tell what they were? Do they look human?”

“A little, enough so we can make guesses as to who the fathers are.” 

Frank drew in a sharp breath and looked around desperately. Jack was afraid for a moment the man just might try to jump from the speeding vehicle. The con was almost working too well. Then Frank slumped his shoulders and hung his head. “Oh my god, Oh my god,” he was saying over and over again. 

The litany continued for the rest of the trip. Frank turning paler with each recitation. Until they were in front of his house. A plain brick structure, with no plants to soften the harshness of the architecture. In sharp contrast to the attached houses on either side that boasted traditional gardens and hedges. 

“Why are we here?” Frank protested weakly. “I need to go to MI5. Report in.”

“No, you don’t want to go there in your condition,” Jack explained. “You need to sleep this off so you can think more clearly in the morning. Besides,” Jack grimaced, “you need a change of clothes and shower.”

“But that will destroy evidence!” 

“Evidence of what?” Jack asked. “Think about it. Do you really want them to know what happened to you?”

“But, how do I explain?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack replied reasonably. “We’ll explain it. Weevils are a known problem. “You ran into one. Fought it off, escaped, but lost your mobile in the fight and got confused in the maze down there. It easy to do, former routes to the surface have caved in, lots of dead ends. You’re getting out was further complicated by having to dodge the free roaming Weevils. We realized something had stirred up them up. Went to check and found you. You were exhausted, so we just took you home to sleep it off. 

“See, simple explanation for your absence” Jack smiled reassuringly at him. “And coming out ahead in a one on one with a Weevil is pretty impressive. Should serve you well.” 

“And no mention of the other…”

“None, but that’s why you need to get out of that boilersuit. There may be some evidence on it of what you were doing. You wouldn’t want anyone at MI5 to get wind of that now would you?” 

Frank paled at the thought. “No I wouldn’t.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve thought of everything haven’t you? I guess I’m in your debt. If you ever need a favor…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jack replied cheerfully. “But now, you should get cleaned. And honestly, get some rest. You want a clear mind tomorrow.”

“Alright but… he stopped and felt for pockets that weren’t there. “My keys are gone.”

“That’s okay, we provide door to door service. I’ll get you in.” Jack got out of the SUV and opened the door for Frank. 

“You’re not going to break my door down are you?” 

“No, I’m not, I just have a way with locks. Everything will work fine when I’m done. But I’d recommend getting your locks changed. The Weevils do have your keys…”

“You mean they could come after me? Here? In my house?”

“They haven’t done anything like that yet,” Jack temporized. “I was just suggesting it as a precaution. You should be fine tonight. Don’t worry.” 

“You sure?”

Jack put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly as they stood on the porch . “Yeah I’m sure. Let’s just get you inside now shall we?” The door had a standard dead bolt and the house was equipped with an electronic alarm. Jack used the sonic screwdriver on the dead bolt while Frank punched in the code for the alarm system. 

“Is that what that thing is for?” Frank asked indicating the sonic screwdriver. 

“Basically,” replied Jack as he flipped the screwdriver in the air before pocketing it. “It’s harmless. Just makes things easier for the Doctor.”

Frank’s eyes hardened. “Good thing he doesn’t have it then. Nothing should be easy for the likes of him.” Before Jack could respond, Frank cut him off. “I’ll see you around Jack,” he said as he limped through the door and closed it. 

Jack frowned and was deep in thought as he reentered the SUV. Any sympathy the Torchwood leader may have been starting to feel for Frank left him with that last exchange. It was obvious Frank was still a danger for the Doctor and that meant Frank had to leave, be neutralized. 

“I suppose it would too much to ask that foot of his gives way on his stairs and he breaks his neck,” Jack commented as he entered the SUV. 

“Is everything alright sir?” Ianto asked as he put the car in gear. 

Jack sighed. “I’m not sure. That post hypnotic suggestion may not have been sufficient. He’s scared, but it might not be enough. He’s still focused on the Doctor. Hopefully he’ll have nightmares tonight about having recognizable half-breed children running around under the streets of Cardiff or of that Weevil we ran into coming to visit him. That was too close even for my comfort. It was you who distracted it, wasn’t it? I thought I told you to stay here.”

“Sorry sir, you were taking longer than expected so I was checking up to see if you needed assistance. I saw the weevil, and that it was heading towards your position and decided to draw it away.”

“I’m glad you did. It worked. Now, how is phase two of this operation going?”

“The position in MI5 London HQ is still open. I’ve applied one of his previous applications against it. The top runner is no longer eligible, some issues with his clearance and background investigation, which his family have decided to handle it by letting him immigrate and sending the girl and child along once she’s of age.”

Jack laughed “A remittance man? In this day and age?” He shook his head. Some things just never changed with the aristocracy. “So the fancy titled job for useless lords’ sons is wide open for our friend?” 

“Yes sir, and I’ve managed to have Mr. Fisher’s paper work expedited. He’s to report day after tomorrow.”

“Good work, I know he’s been trying for London for a while. I hate giving him what he wants, but if it keeps him out of our hair and away from the Doctor, it’s worth it. Hopefully the scare we gave him will be enough to prevent him from questioning how he became so lucky. What is the job anyway?”

“It’s an old section. It seems to involve a threat no longer active, but they do a lot of monitoring and analyzing of radio waves, both terrestrial and space in origin. Especially wavelength 456.”

Jack blanched at that last. “456? You sure?”

“Yes, that was it. Why? Is something wrong?” 

Staring out the window Jack pondered the question as the rain started up again. Was that a safe unit for Frank to be in? It had been years, decades in fact. They’d gotten what they wanted, if they hadn’t come back by now… He stopped himself. He was worried over nothing and once Frank was read in, he would be convinced there were far larger threats than the Doctor to worry about. He turned to Ianto and smiled.

“No, nothing, just old memories. That should be the perfect place for him. Any word on how the Doctor is doing?” 

“There’s no change. Martha asked me get an oxygen condenser and a few more supplies. I get the impression his recovery will take quite a while if at…” 

“Don’t say it! Don’t even think it,” ordered Jack. “He’s going to pull through. He has to.”

Cowed, Ianto didn’t respond. Only the steady beat of the wipers broke the silence until they approached the Plass on the way to the Hub.

“Pull over,” Jack directed.

“Sir?” questioned Ianto as he complied with the order. 

“I’m going to go to the TARDIS and make her let me in.”

“Jack, are you sure? I mean. One time you might not come back.”

“Just stay here and don’t let any ambulances cart me off.” 

“Yes, sir.” Disapproval was apparent in Ianto’s voice in contrast to the words.

Turning his back on Ianto’s worried expression, Jack started towards the TARDIS. He could feel her trying to push her away. He set his mind to walk a straight line, concentrating on the ground, not thinking about his goal. He ignored the rain as it ran down the back of his neck, each determined step taking him closer to the goal he dared not let enter his mind. It worked, he was there, he could see the edge of the TARDIS, then he felt Ianto’s arms around him as he was looking down at a curb. He was overbalanced would have fallen into the busy street if not for Ianto pulling him back.

“Jack, you awake now? Back with me?”

“Yes,” came Jack’s disheartened response. “What Happened?”

“You almost walked into traffic. I couldn’t stop you.”

Jack stood there wavering, trying to make sense of what Ianto was saying. _He almost walked into traffic?_ The words stunned him. He knew he’d been at the TARDIS. He saw the bottom of the door. Shaking his head he realized this wasn’t going to work. Ianto could have been hurt trying to save him. Innocent bystanders might have been injured or killed. No matter what his pride told him it was time to give up. 

“Alright let’s go,” ordered Jack, resigned to his failure. Knowing he’d let both the Martha and the Doctor down. One was in no condition know, but the other he would have to face shortly. 

 

Back at the Hub, Martha was just finishing another round of range of motion exercises on the Doctor. There had been no reaction at any time during the procedure. No trace of muscle tone, no pain response, reflexes minimal. She sighed as she laid his leg back on the bed and covered it with the sheet. A few more bruises were starting to heal, but the read outs showed the major organ damage that he had sustained was still unchanged. Brain waves minimal almost an anomaly of the instrumentation. 

She replaced his old blanket with a new warmed one from the cabinet. Smoothing it over him she felt its softness and heat, wishing somewhere in the motionless body he felt it too. She adjusted his oxygen mask and checked the reading on the tank. It was running low and she only had one more on hand. Hopefully Ianto would have the oxygen concentrator here soon. Her one attempt at decreasing the flow had resulted in his breath becoming shallow and rapid as the oxygen in his bloodstream dropped. 

Wearily she sat down on the stool next to the Doctor’s bed and reached under the blanket taking his hand in hers. Feeling on some level he might take some comfort from it. She wanted to speak to him but had no idea what to say as she looked at his motionless form. Her emotions held in check by medical detachment as she treated him, ran rampant through her mind. Anger, despair, heartache, hope all jockeyed for position in her mind. Exhaustion was one she pushed away as she heard the door open. There would be time for that later. With a final squeeze she let go of the Doctor’s hand and stood up and turned to see Jack descending the infirmary stairs carrying a package. “I’ve got that oxygen thing for you,” he called out.

“Thank you. Everything go alright?” she asked. 

“Mostly,” he responded as he put the package on the counter, “we were just tying up some loose ends. Ianto is bringing in the rest of the supplies you ordered. I tried the TARDIS again.” He shook his head before Martha could get her hopes up. “I’m sorry. It’s just not going to work.” 

She reached out and took his hand. “It’s okay Jack. You tried.”

Jack looked away his eyes resting on the Doctor. “It’s not right,” he said. “There’s something I’m missing.” He suddenly turned and looked at her. “And you, can’t you at least be angry with me.”

“Why, so you don’t have to be so hard on yourself?” Her voice softened as smiled at him. “Jack, we’ll make do with what we have. He’s stable now, hopefully he’ll start to improve on his own.” Then to her embarrassment her stomach growled. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be, that’s why I came down here. Gwen’s coming in soon. I was going to have her pick up some take away. You want fish and chips or curry?”

“Curry.”

“I’ll let her know. It will be here in twenty minutes. You should join us upstairs.”

Martha bit her lip and glanced at the Doctor.

“You said he was stable” Jack asserted. “You need a break. You can’t spend every minute in here. You’ll go stir crazy. Come on, we have mentors upstairs you can watch him on, see all the readings and you won’t be more than fifteen seconds away from him.”

“But…” 

“No buts, twenty minutes I want to see you upstairs.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders and bent down so his face was level with hers. “That’s an order. No arguments” 

She nodded and he smiled as he let his hands fall away. “Good, now don’t forget, twenty minutes.” 

“I won’t. Thank you, Jack”

“Don’t mention it.” The captain gave on last sad glance at the Doctor before leaving the infirmary.

Martha, opened the package and saw the exact model oxygen concentrator she had ordered. She smiled, she knew Ianto wouldn’t let her down. She set it up and transferred the tube from the tank to the device. The Time Lord’s oxygen saturation level dipped briefly and then returned to its previous level. She checked the boluses connected to the IV and the IV site itself before putting another warmed blanket on him. With two fingers placed under the side of his jaw she felt his pulse. Slow, faint and barely discernable as the as the instruments said it would feel. As it had felt all day. After a deep breath she ran her fingers once more through his hair, now clean and silky as it should be, combing it back from his face. There was really nothing more to do for now, and her twenty minutes were almost up. 

Reluctantly she ascended the stairs. Her hand went out for the door handle and stopped. Her gaze and attention drawn back to the Doctor. Seeming even more helpless when viewed from above. She closed her eyes and told herself she would be gone briefly and only seconds away from him. Opening the door was easy, but stepping through… It was as if there was an invisible barrier, an emotional one, illogically making her feel as if she was deserting him, betraying him. That she had no right to any rest or enjoyment while he was so desperately ill. Jack called out her name, urging her to join them. She stepped forward and the barrier vanished like the illusion it was and she walked towards the sounds of camaraderie and welcome.


	33. Chapter 33

Going through reports Ianto had prepared was one task dreaded task that Jack couldn’t pawn off on someone else. His aid was thorough and detail oriented. Never did Jack have to add anything. It was possible deletions he needed to look for. Information he didn’t want to be recorded for all time. Such as the details on Frank Fisher. The story Frank believed was what needed to be in the official record, not the con, not the facts. Jack left that there were marks, deep scratches, discovered on Frank’s door the morning after he had returned home accompanied by strange foot prints on the walk. He deleted that it was Ianto who had caused them. He wasn’t sure if those additional touches had been necessary, but Frank had wasted no time in accepting his new position in London and moving out of his house. In fact he stayed in a hotel after he found the signs of Weevil interest around his dwelling. Jack doubted he would ever see Frank within fifty miles of Cardiff again. 

There were other details that Jack didn’t want in the records, that the Doctor had been in the infirmary for three weeks now was one, at least not the actual truth. So he conveniently changed the Doctor’s identity in all the reports. It was a Lackalin that they had in the infirmary as far as the records were concerned. Harmless race, curious explorers, not conquerors, they passed for human quite easily, unless someone noticed their ears were glued on or the advanced prehensile nature of their tongues. That last part Jack had often found entertaining and enjoyable in the past, and caused them to come to easily to mind when he decided he needed to conceal the Doctor’s identity.   
Right now he was ‘correcting’ an entry from a week ago. For thirteen days the Doctor had lain pale and unmoving, no change in his condition but a few glacially healing bruises and scrapes. Martha continuously worried and fretted over him. It had been a challenge for Jack to get her to take a break from her vigil. One meal a day outside of the infirmary was all he could manage to get her to do and then she watched the monitor like a hawk the whole time. Though she feigned a relaxed attitude, Jack could tell she was braced to bolt back to the Doctor’s side should the need arise. Then a week ago, there was a change. 

 

Jack had entered infirmary determined to get Martha to step outside of the hub, get a breath of fresh air, convince her the Doctor would be safe in under his watchful eye. Determination changed to surprise when he heard Martha happily humming as she switched out the IV boluses. 

“Good news?” Jack asked.

Martha looked up at him. Smile wide and eyes bright no longer lined with worry. “Yes, definitely, look.” She pointed to the monitor. 

Jack shook his head. “I don’t see anything different?”

“This section here. It shows brain activity. See the waveform?”

Jack squinted his eyes as he studied the screen, there were very small bumps in the lines. So small he would have thought that they were just an artifact of the instrumentation. 

“I know they’re small,” Martha continued. “But they weren’t there yesterday. It’s been flat since he collapsed.” 

“So, what does it mean?” 

“His brain is starting to function. He’s a long way to consciousness, but it is an improvement. One I've been waiting for.”

Jack looked down at the Doctor. He was lying on his side. Bolstered by pillows and covered by a sheet and a blanket. He was still pale, unmoving, there was a slight fog on the oxygen mask that covered his face. The bruises were gone, but that was the only change he could see. Then there was movement, a tremor that rolled thought the Doctor from head to toe like a wave. So strong it was visible through the bed clothes.

“What’s that?” he asked in alarm. 

“I don’t’ know.” Martha responded calmly. “It’s been happening all along. Two of three times a day. At first I couldn’t see a change in his condition when it occurred, but look now.” She gestured towards the monitor. 

Jack could see it. The little bumps had increased, slightly but definitely. “So it’s something good?”

“I think so,” she answered as she looked down and smoothed the blanket covering the Time Lord. She sighed and turned back to Jack with a sad smile. “Don’t worry Jack, I’m not a fool, I know he’s not out of the woods yet, but I do believe he found the path. We just have to help him keep on it.” 

 

And help him keep on that path is what Martha had done with a vengeance over the next week. Jack couldn’t get her to leave his side for even one meal a day and she barely slept, despite the fact the Doctor was improving dramatically. But now when Jack looked up from his paperwork and checked the screen showing the infirmary, what he saw was totally unexpected. Martha had taken the Doctor off the oxygen and the Doctor’s brown suit, a shirt and tie, replaced the fluids that had previously been on the IV stand. He left his office in a hurry wanting to get the latest news directly from Martha. 

“How’s the patient today?” Jack asked as entered the infirmary. 

“He’s better, much better,” Martha answered as she put some medical supplies away. “Off the oxygen and brain activity shows he’s just in a deep sleep now. He should be waking up in a few of hours. Definitely by days end. You should have some food ready for him, he’s going to be hungry.” She hesitated then continued. “I’d say make sure he doesn’t eat too much, but he knows his body pretty well and gorging himself may be just what he needs.” 

Jack realized what her instructions meant. “You’re not going to be here?”

Turning to the bed, Martha avoided Jack’s gaze. Her hand went out over the Doctor’s chest and hovered there for a moment, as if she was about to touch the blanket that covered it, but instead she let it drop to her side. Jack noticed her ring finger was now bare, the engagement ring nowhere to be seen. “No, he doesn’t need medical attention now and I have to get back to UNIT.” The regret was obvious in her voice. 

“Surely they can wait a few more hours till he’s up and around.” 

Martha stared at the Doctor’s face and sighed. “They can, I can’t. If I stay… Jack, I fell in love with a man who didn’t exist. I need to straighten that out. Figure out what I want do with my life.” Her hand reached out and gently brushed the Time Lord’s hair from his forehead. “If I stay, he might ask me to go with him, and I don’t know if I could resist. But it’s a poor trade, leaving the man who never was, to run after the willow the wisp. I need to know my own mind first. I need to know I’m running to a new life, not just away from an old one.” She faced Jack as if daring him to find fault.

“He might not ask you, you know,” Jack reasoned, trying to get her to stay. 

“Then it’s his decision and I need it to be mine, as my first step in taking back control of my life.” 

“He’s going to wonder why you aren’t here.”

“But he won’t ask, I know him.” She took a pad from the counter and wrote quickly. “Here give him this,” she said as she handed the note to Jack.

Jack looked at the note in surprise. “Your mobile number?”

“Yes, remind him, that the phone receives calls as well as sends them. He doesn’t have to wait for me to call him. I’ll be there for him, whenever he needs me.” 

As he put the note in his pocket Jack nodded. Personally he doubted the number would ever be used. Admitting he needed help was hardly one of the Doctor’s strong points. “So is that it?” Jack asked. “No other instructions?”

“Yes, there is one thing, get him to talk about what he’s been through.”

“Me?” Jack pulled a face and pointed to his own chest, incredulous. “How am I supposed to get him to talk? I think it would be better if you stayed and did it.” 

“Jack, I’ve heard you two. He opens up to you. I don’t know if it’s because he’s more comfortable with you or respects you.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up at that and he cut off a short bark of laughter. “No, really Jack, he does. But it might just be that… Well, you are a con man. One of your skills is getting people to tell you things they didn’t intend to.” 

“I don’t see him as a mark.” Jack protested. 

Martha reached out her hand and touched the captain’s forearm. “I know you don’t,” she said kindly. “But you still have the skills and,” Martha smiled fondly at him as she shook her head, “you can’t help using them. With the Doctor, it’s good that you do. I had to stage a sit down strike to get him to admit his planet had been destroyed and he was the last of his kind. You, he talks to. He answers your questions.” 

“He didn’t this time. He was evasive about everything, from why he was here, to if he was hungry.”

“I know, Ianto told me. But still, you need to try, and you will have a better chance than I would. Maybe with that thing out of him, he’ll open up a little easier.” 

The Torchwood leader frowned. “I hope it’s out of him. I’d love to give him another scan, but the device is dead now. No power.”

“Don’t borrow trouble when you don’t need to. You didn’t see his face before he passed out, it was him and only him. And the device did show you’d gotten it all before failed.”

A sigh followed by the rustle of bed clothes broke into Martha and Jack’s conversation. The Doctor had rolled onto his side.

“Jack, it’s time for me to go,” Martha whispered as she quietly walked over to the cot and picked her bag up off it. 

“Should I stay here?” Jack asked softly.

Martha shook her head then beckoned for him to follow her up the stairway. Once they were outside the room she explained, “You should let him wake up by himself. He’s been out a long time. Give him some space while he acclimates.”

Jack nodded, he understood the reasoning. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’d feel more comfortable if you were here.” 

Martha looked down and stared at the bag in her hand as she bit her lip before nodding and turning her attention back to Jack. “Alright, I promise not the leave the Quay until you let me know he’s fine. But…” she looked up at one of the screens that displayed the medical readout on the Doctor, “I think he’s going to be awake before I get to the car park.” She offered her hand to Jack.

“A handshake? After all we’ve been through?” Jack protested as he held his arms wide. 

With a generous smile on her face, Martha dropped her bag and stepped forward into his embrace. She returned it tentatively at first, but soon Jack felt her pull him close with a fierceness that surprised him. He waited for her to relax and then took her by the shoulders and held her slightly away from him, fixing his eyes on hers. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked. 

She nodded a slight glistening in her eyes. “Yes, I’ll be fine. I know what I need to do now.” 

“Good. You know, there is a position here for you, if you ever want it.”

“Thank you Jack, I’ll keep that in mind.” Her smile told Jack she was complimented, but most likely would not take him up on the offer. She glanced again at the monitor. “I really need to be off. Take care of him Jack.” Then, without another word, she picked up her bag and was out the door. 

On his way to his office Jack was interrupted by Ianto. “Is everything alright sir?” his aid asked holding out a cup of fresh coffee for him. Jack took it gratefully. 

“It appears to be. Martha says he’s just asleep now and should wake up at any moment. Are there any new developments with the TARDIS?”

“The protective circle is still contracting but it’s also changed shape, more like a pear.”

Jack frowned. “A pear? Show me.”

Sipping his coffee Jack followed his aide to his workstation. There Ianto pulled up the necessary display. “See this is what it was like three weeks ago when the Doctor collapsed,” he explained. The display showed random green dots, representing people in the Plass, with a dark circular area in the middle. “I’ll move through the past three weeks.” The dark area shrank as more dots encroached on it. Then it started to change, holding the border on the side corresponding to the entrance of the TARDIS and shrinking on the sides and rear. Definitely a pear shape as Ianto had reported.

Jack placed his hand on Ianto’s desk and leaned forward, studying the screen. “Can you run the timeline again, slower this time?”

“Certainly, sir.” The simulation ran again. The dark area developed a bulge in front of the door before the sides started collapsing. But what did it mean? Why the collapse at all? His first thought was conservation of power, but she was parked on the rift, with all the power it gave her that shouldn’t be necessary? Maybe it was, as Gwen had suggest when the area had started shrinking, the start of forgiveness. Or perhaps she was just bored with pushing everyone away. If so, then soon she should just go back to her old mode of using the perception filter to not be noticed. Not be so aggressive. 

Gwen interrupted his thoughts as she came up behind him. “Jack, Ianto, I think our patient is awake,” 

The TARDIS forgotten, Jack pushed away from Ianto’s desk and hurried to the workstation that served as the main control for the cameras in the infirmary. There he saw the Time Lord was indeed awake and sitting up. Jack zoomed a camera in on him and was rewarded with a rather nonplussed glare from the Doctor who stood up and let the bedclothes fall away from him as he did so. With regret, Jack resisted temptation and yielded to the Doctor’s unspoken demand, turning the camera so it’s only view was a wall, hoping he was doing the right thing. Praying Martha was correct and it was just the Doctor in the infirmary and nothing else.


	34. Chapter 34

Bars, steel bars, less than six inches from his face were big formidable shinny steel bars. The Doctor’s thoughts raced. What had he gotten himself into now? He didn’t know where he was. In friendly or hostile hands, he had no idea. He forced himself to relax and assess his environment. The steel bars only went up about a third of a meter above the surface he was lying on and that surface was soft yielding to his weight and pressure points. There were coverings that were warm and comfortable. It wasn’t bars meant to imprison him that he saw, they were rails, hospital bed rails, meant to protect him against gravity. He was with friends.

Friends who from the soft friction of the sheets on his skin as he rolled on to his back had apparently stripped him naked. He shook his head as he gazed up at the large silver eye of the operating light that hovered ominously over the bed. Whatever they thought that accomplished he had no idea. He rubbed his forehead trying to get the sleep inertia muzzyness out of it as his tongue worked around his teeth and gums trying in vain to ease the sticky dryness of his mouth. 

His hand slide down to his face and he stopped. His cheek was smooth, surprisingly smooth with only a hint of stubble. They’d shaved him? What about his sideburns. It had taken him ages to get them just right and to think some ham handed idiot might have… He took a deep breath and stopped that train of thought. He was alive and free of the creature. Sideburns could grow back, as he rubbed in front of his ear, he realized there was no need to worry, there was enough there to work with. A little coaxing they should reach perfection in a week or so. 

After a deep breath, he tried a full, tension filled stretch, his toes pointed and his arms out away from his chest reaching for the ceiling, fingers splayed. He let his breath went out in rush as his arms dropped back to the bed and assessed his condition. His time sense had been too muddled by the creature for him to know how long he’d been out, but judging by the lack of stiffness it couldn’t have been more than a few days. He mustn’t have been as badly injured as he had thought. It had been so hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Maybe the only thing that had been wrong with him was exhaustion. There was one thing however, that was real and extremely demanding of his attention, hunger. He was incredibly hungry. 

He grabbed the cold metal bed rail and pulled himself up into a seated position, a little too quickly as it turned out, the room spun for a moment as his body adjusted to the new position. The bed clothes slid down to his waist as he worked the mechanism that let down the rail. A clatter and clank and he was free. He swung his legs over the side of the bed preparing to stand up when a whirring sound high and to the left caught his attention. 

There he saw a camera trained on him, its lens zooming in. He glowered at it and stood up, letting the bedclothes fall to the floor, leaving him totally naked, exposed. The camera slowly turned so it was facing a wall. Hearing whirring behind him, he twisted to see a second camera in the room, also turning towards a wall. He nodded in satisfaction and surveyed the rest of the area. There were some medical supplies neatly lined up on the counter behind a change of underwear and an IV stand that was currently being used as a clothes horse, his brown suit occupying it. He smiled, that was just what he needed to feel like himself again. First order of business was the sink. He needed water.

He turned on the taps and let flow over his fingers till it was cold. Not bothering to look for a glass or other vessel, he cupped his hand and drank in the refreshing liquid as if flowed from the tap. Not too much, just enough to wet his mouth and throat. 

“Jack, I know you can’t help listening in,” he called out as he started to dress himself, “so could you have some food ready for me when I come up. I don’t care what. Just a lot of it.” As he finished his request he felt lightheaded and put a hand out to the counter to steady himself while he completed donning his trousers. The shirt was crisply pressed as was the suit. Not the way he preferred, but he knew it would return to its normal rumpled form soon enough. Of course that lead to a dilemma when it was time to do up his tie. Should he match the rest of the look and do it neatly. He grimaced at the thought. So half-mast and askew it was. The best choice most likely, Jack would worry it wasn’t him if he was too tidy. 

That decision taken care of, he looked around, he needed shoes. Surely they had left them about here somewhere. They weren’t on the counter or that place most humans liked to put them, under the bed. There was a cot with neatly folded sheets as if prepared for inspection against one wall, but no shoes either on or under it. The floor held no hint of their location nor the cabinets. His search however produced some rather disturbing clues as to his time there. There were boluses of fluid in one cabinet. IV kits and tubing in another. 

The trash held the most disturbing information. In one container were remains of a cast for a lower left arm. He looked at his. Had he broken it? All his fingers moved and his wrist was flexible. It must have been nothing a false alarm. It would take a week or more for a real fracture to heal. He checked the other container, bright red in color and discovered tubing and an oxygen mask. He unconsciously touched his face when he saw that. Had it been on him? Empty oxygen bottles in the corner and an oxygen condenser on the floor next to the bed told him it had. Worse some of the tubing in the trash wasn’t for oxygen, he could see drops of liquid inside them. He flexed his hand and stared at the back of it. Aware of a slight sting there that he hadn’t noticed before. Which of those potions in the cabinet had they used on him? 

He sighed, what was done was done and overall he seemed to have suffered no ill effects. There were no shoes here, or answers for that matter. Hopefully both would be upstairs. He took one last look around, ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it a bit and headed for the stairway. He was tempted to fly up it multiple steps at a time. However, with stocking feet, traction was an issue and there was the balance problem he’d experienced earlier, so with regret, it was a sedate single step approach that he settled on. 

 

“What took you so long?” asked Jack as the Doctor entered the control room.

“I was looking for my trainers. You haven’t seen them, have you?” 

Out of the corner of his eye the Doctor saw Ianto jump out of his chair. “Sorry sir, I’ll be right back,” was the only the only explanation the Welshman gave as he left the room. 

Jack was staring at his colleague’s exit with a puzzled look on his face. The Doctor cocked a single eyebrow at him when he had the captain’s attention again.

“I think he might have sent them out to be cleaned,” Jack temporized. 

“Cleaned? He had my trainers cleaned?” The Doctor was incredulous, first the pressed clothing and now the wonderful patina that had graced his trainers had been removed. What were they trying to do? Prep him to see the Queen? 

“It won’t be a problem, it’s mid-day, he’ll have them back here shortly.”

“But why did he have them cleaned? They were fine.”

Jack shook his head and gave a wry smile. “Look, he was just trying to help. He says you saved his life and…” Jack shrugged his shoulders. “I think he felt a little guilty. Don’t worry, you’ll have them dirty again in no time.”

“They weren’t dirty, they were seasoned.”

“Alright, you’ll get them seasoned in no time.” Jack stepped next to the Doctor and put his arm over the Time Lord’s shoulders guiding towards his office. “Come on, Gwen should be back soon with your lunch, but I have some doughnuts left over from this morning, you can have those till she gets here.” 

They were passing by the base of the water tower when there was a blast of air, a rustle of wings and suddenly in front of them was Myfanwy. The Doctor stepped back and eyed the pteranodon cautiously. Jack moved forward, waving his hands and yelling “Shoo, shoo, get back up there!” to no avail. 

Landing lightly, Myfanwy danced around Jack and approached the Doctor, head down and tilted slightly to one side. The captain was about to jump on her when the Doctor held up his hand. “No, wait, I don’t think she’s attacking.”

“You sure you want to risk it?” asked Jack, shifting his weight to his toes, ready to pounce if need be. 

“I’m sure, well…” the Doctor tilted his head and grimaced, “not sure exactly, but, let’s give her a chance.” The Doctor lowered his hand and held it out. Myfanwy ducked her head under it and rubbed her top knob against his palm. He slide his hand down to her neck and massaged it feeling the tendons move against the vertebra, her skin surprisingly warm and soft beneath his fingers. “Easy girl,” he crooned as she tilted her beak inward and arched her neck upward into his palm, obviously enjoying his attentions. 

“What’s caused this change?” asked Jack, relaxing, no longer ready to leap on his pet if need be. 

“I’m not certain, but I think it wasn’t me she had a problem with, but what was inside me.” He bent down till he was eye level with Myfanwy as he continued to rub her neck. “Was that it girl? You were trying to knock that thing out of me?” 

Myfanwy didn’t answer, but just closed her eyes and rubbed her head against his shoulder. The Doctor’s stomach growled. “Well you might not be hungry, but I am,” the Doctor apologized. “I have to go now.” He gave her neck a final stroke and stood up. With a disappointed chirp, Myfanwy launched herself into the air, towards her roost at the top of the hub. 

“You two done now? Or should I book you a room?” Jack asked with a smile.

The Doctor crossed his arms and ignored Jack’s question as he stared up at the ceiling where Myfanwy was resting. “She is quite friendly as you said. I can see why you keep her around.” He looked back at Jack. “Now where are those doughnuts?” 

 

The doughnuts proved to be adequate in every way but mass. There were only three and they were the small cake variety, one each of plain, powdered sugar and cinnamon sugar. Not that the Doctor noticed, he woofed them down so rapidly, barely stopping to chew. Jack had brought him some imperfectly brewed tea, more colored water than anything. It didn’t matter, it was wet and hot and he used it to wash down the last of the doughnuts. He looked around hoping to find something else to eat, but there was nothing. 

“Sorry,” Jack apologized, “Gwen should have been back by now. Martha warned us you would be hungry.” 

“Martha? She’s here?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Not anymore, she went back to London this morning.” 

The Doctor was disappointed but decided Martha must have had her reasons. He was about to change the subject when Jack continued.

“She’d stayed here almost a month and UNIT is shorthanded on medical staff. They needed her back. “

“She was here a month?” asked the Doctor frowning as he tried to make sense of the time line, wondering how much of his memory was gone. He didn’t remember her being there before the creature revealed itself. But she must have been if she’d been here that long. Jack continued talking during his ruminations.

“Yeah, lived in the infirmary for most of it, taking care of you. She wouldn’t leave. We had to set up that cot for her.”

The Doctor’s mind scrambled as he took in what he heard and swallowed against the tightness that was starting in his throat. “How long was I out?” he asked hesitantly, not knowing if he really wanted the answer. 

“A little over three weeks,” Jack explained matter of factly. Then his voice softened a bit. “The first two you were barely alive, we thought we’d lost you.” 

“Do you want to eat in here,” Gwen asked standing at the door and holding several bags filled with Styrofoam containers. Ianto was behind her, looking sheepish as he held up the Doctor’s trainers. 

“Here, will do,” said Jack as he cleared some room on his desk for the bags. “Smells good. What’d you get?”

“The Quay was swamped with school groups, all the normal places were jammed with hungry children, so I convinced that Indian restaurant to do some take away for me.” She turned to the Doctor and smiled as she put the bags on the desk. “I hope it’s alright with you.” 

“It’s great, just what I need,” he replied cheerfully as he put on his shoes, though his newly awakened stomach did a flip at the thought of the thick spicy and aromatic sauces that were the hallmark of India’s food.

Ianto went to fetch some utensils and make some proper tea. Not wanting to wait for those formalities, the Doctor began poking around in the bags. He discovered some naan. Perfect, no need for a need for a knife and fork for that and bland enough his stomach wouldn’t protest. He tore off a piece and ate it. 

“This is quite good,” he commented between bites. 

“If you like that plain, you should try this,” Gwen produced small plastic containers with sauces of varying colors and some crisp papadam. The Doctor sampled the offers as Ianto came back and deposited some strong black tea in front of him, along with a knife, fork, spoon napkin and plate. Soon the plate was full of food that the Doctor dug into with a relish. It was indeed rich and flavorful with spices and as he feared almost too much for a digestive system that had been unused for over three weeks. A careful blending of rice with the curries, tikas, and marsalas quieted his midsection after the first few bites and he was able to get on with the task of refueling his body, ignoring the others as they conversed and joined in sampling the wares of the restaurant. 

He did slow down after a bit, wanting to try a little test on the side without anyone noticing. There was a paper packed with food. It was in Hindi and would serve as adequate test material. Would the TARDIS help him translate? She wasn’t with English, but that wasn’t unusual. It was second nature to him now and her help with it was purely extraneous. He stared at the paper while absent mindedly dipping some naan in a curry. No assistance came forth, he could read it but he was relying on his own memory banks not on her converting it to his own language for him. He covered up his disappointment by taking a forkful of curry, savoring it as the flavors not only hit his palate but his sinuses as well. 

He was about halfway through his third plate when he leaned back in his chair, letting it take the full weight of his shoulders and neck, and sighed contentedly, patting his midsection. “That hit the spot, thank you.” 

Gwen beamed at him. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re back with us.” She frowned sadly. “You had us all worried. Especially after what happened with the ambassador.”

“The ambassador?” The Doctor was confused and looked to Jack for an explanation. 

“We tested that device on him. I’d tried it on you first, but couldn’t tell which energy was which, I almost extracted you, not it.” 

The Doctor closed his eyes at the memory of part of him being pulled away from the rest, the terror and confusion it had caused, as Jack continued. “You’d said the ambassador might be infected. You were right, he was. But it was much smaller in him, just starting I think, so it was easier to sort out which energy was the invader. Still it fought. I guess that took a toll on the old guy. He died in a hospital a few hours later.”

Opening his eyes the Doctor stared at the empty tea cup in front of him, slowly shaking his head. Another life lost. If only he’d been paying attention. Not dismissing the warning signs. Disregarding his symptoms, that man might still be alive.

“Look, there was nothing else we could do,” explained the captain not understanding what was troubling the Doctor. “I tried going to the TARDIS to see if I could find some answers.”

“And I found him lying dead in the rain as a result,” Gwen broke in. 

“Dead?” The Doctor was stunned and dreading what he would hear next. 

Jack just shrugged his shoulders. “Every time I got close, she killed me. Once before we got that thing out of you and twice afterwards. ”

“She killed you? She actually killed you?” The Doctor couldn’t understand why the TARDIS would do that or wasn’t even aware she could do that. 

“Hey, it’s not like it’s permanent with me,” Jack assured him, “and she knows that.”

“No one else has been hurt?” 

“No, just the Plass was hard to walk through for a while. But people are able to get a lot closer now. I think her mood may be improving. That or she’s gotten bored or tired with keeping them away.”

“So she’s not just using the perception filter, she’s still actively pushing them away?”

“Yeah, but really, people can get much closer to the water tower now. That’s a good sign isn’t it?”

 _“Was it? Was it really?”_ thought the Doctor. _“Killing Jack, pushing people away even if weakly.”_ ‘Weakly’ he seized on that word. There was no reason for her to be weak, not sitting on top of the rift. His breath stopped, his throat tightened, unswallowed saliva was building up in his mouth. _“No, no, no he thought. It can’t be. It couldn’t”_

“Is everything alright?” Jack asked as the Doctor stood up, not bothering to answer as he left the office and headed at a run towards the Torchwood entrance.

Outside it was a bright sunny day. School groups were everywhere, blocking his path to the stairway that lead to the Plass. He made his way as carefully and as quickly as possible through the children. At the top of the stairs he stopped. He needed to go no further. In sharp contrast to the brightly dressed children and balloons swaying in the breeze was dark malevolent energy he felt emanating from the TARDIS. 

His gut clenched as he recognized it for what it was. Another of the creatures, fully grown and even more powerful than the one that had been inside him. It wasn’t just the ambassador the creature had invaded, it was in the TARDIS as well. Fear hit him like a blow as he realized what was going on. The TARDIS was grappling with it, holding it there, all while trying to keep the people away and safe from harm. He wanted to go to her, but he dared not approach. Tears brimmed in his eyes as realized the agony she must be in. Agony he knew all too well. She was in the fight of her life, and she was losing.


End file.
